FROM    THE   LIBRARY   OF 
REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.   D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 

THE  LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


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OCT  10  1931 


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Countess  of  Huntingdon 


And  her  Circle 


By 
Sarah   Tytler-^    ^f.^  <  4 

Author  of  "Modern  Painters  and  their  Paintings";    "The  Old 

Masters  and  their  Works";    "Musical  Composers  and 

their  Works";    etc.,  etc. 


CINCINNATI  :     JENNINGS   AND  GRAHAM 
NEW     YORK  :     EATON    AND    MAINS 


Press  of 

Isaac  Pitman  &  Sons,  Bath,  England. 

{2300) 


Contents 


CHAPTER   I  PAGE 

The  Moral  and  Religious  State  of  England  in  the  Eighteenth 
Century — The  Oxford  Revival — The  Woman  who  was  the 
Comrade  of  John  and  Charles  Wesley  and  George  Whitefield — 
Lady  Selina  Shirley  Born  in  the  Reign  of  Queen  Anne  in  the 
Year  of  the  Union  of  the  English  and  Scotch  Parliaments — 
The  Tradition  of  the  Early  Impression  made  upon  her  by  a 
Village  Child's  Funeral — The  Engraving  which  represents  her 
as  Lady  Huntingdon  when  well  advanced  in  years — Her  two 
Sisters  Co-heiresses  with  her  of  her  Father,  Earl  Ferrers' 
Fortune — The  Elder  Sister,  Lady  Elizabeth  Nightingale,  one 
of  Roubilliac's  famous  Group  in  Westminster  Abbey — The 
younger,  Mary  Lady  Kilmorey — Lady  Selina  Shirley's  Marriage 
in  1728  to  Theophilus  Hastings  Earl  of  Huntingdon — His 
High  Character  and  Fine  Intellect — Her  Visits  to  Town  and 
Entrance  into  Court  Circles  and  into  Literary  Society  with  her 
Aunt,  Lady  Fanny  Shirley,  the  Friend  of  Horace  Walpole, 
Pope,  Chesterfield,  and  Doctor  Hervey  of  the  "  Meditations 
Among  the  Tombs  "—Lady  Huntingdon's  presence  among 
the  Party  of  Ladies  in  the  Gallery  of  the  House  of  Lords 
sarcastically  described  by  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu       . .        1 

CHAPTER   II 

Lord  Huntingdon's  Five  Sisters — Countess  Selina's  Chief  Friend, 
Lady  Margaret,  who  had  been  "  as  happy  as  an  angel  "  from 
the  time  she  had  adopted  the  Methodist  views — Lady  Hunting- 
don's Hesitation — Her  Dangerous  Illness  and  Decision — The 
Message  she  sent  to  the  Wesleys — Lord  Huntingdon's  Fair- 
mindedness  and  Kindness — The  Marriages  of  two  of  his  Sisters 
to  English  Clergymen  Holding  Methodist  Opinions — Lord 
Huntingdon's  Advice  to  his  Wife  to  consult  his  old  Tutor, 
"  Good  Bishop  Benson  " — Her  Arguments — The  Bishop's  Con- 
viction that  she  Owed  them  to  Whitefield,  with  his  Regret  that 
he  had  Ordained  the  Ardent  Reformer — Her  Answer — The 
Fascination  WTiitefield  had  for  the  Fine  Ladies  of  the  Day — 
The  Persecution  suffered  by  the  Methodists — Some  of  the  Salt 
of  the  Earth  against  them — Hannah  More  Thankful  that  she 
had  never  attended  their  Conventicles  or  entered  their  Taber- 
nacles— Countess  Selina's  Sense  of  Accountability  for  her  own 
Class 16 

iii 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   III  PAGE 

Days  of  Trial — The  Family  as  Trial  found  them — Francis  Lord 
Hastings — Lady  Elizabeth  Hastings — The  two  Boy  Brothers — 
The  Children  in  the  Nursery — The  Visitation  of  Smallpox — 
Lord  Huntingdon's  Dream  and  its  Fulfilment — A  Widow 
Indeed — Wealth  and  Independence — A  Missionary  Tour  in 
Wales — A  Grande  Dame's  Duty  to  her  Children — The  Auspices 
under  which  Francis  Earl  of  Huntingdon  made  the  Grand 
Tour — The  Honours  Heaped  upon  him — Lady  Elizabeth 
Hastings'  Appointment  at  Court — Her  Marriage  to  Lord 
Rawdon,  afterwards  Earl  Moira — A  Different  Sphere — The 
Engraving  known  as  the  "  Beatific  Print  " — Lady  Huntingdon's 
Precarious  Health  forming  no  obstacle  to  her  efforts  . .     33 

CHAPTER   IV 

An  English  Deborah — Her  Rebuffs  from  High  Quarters — Letter 
of  the  Duchess  of  Buckingham — Lady  Huntingdon's  Sunday 
Evenings  in  Town — The  Company  Assembled — No  Irreconcila- 
bles — Lords  Bolingbroke  and  Chesterfield — No  Castaways — 
Lady  Suffolk  and  Lady  Betty  Germayne — Lady  Suffolk  takes 
Guilt  to  herself — The  Necessity  for  the  Establishment  of 
Lady  Huntingdon's  Connexion — Her  many  Churches  and 
Chapels  in  London  and  throughout  the  Country — John  Wesley's 
Objections  with  the  Difficulty  of  Two  Suns  Shining  in  One  Sky 
— Founding  the  College  at  Trevecca  with  Fletcher  of  Madeley  as 
its  Superintendent — Countess  Selina's  Attendance  at  its  Open- 
ing on  her  Fiftieth  Birthday,  and  at  many  of  its  Anniversaries 
— The  Opposition  of  Lady  Huntingdon's  Son  to  the  Trevecca 
Students — The  Different  Action  on  the  Part  of  her  Daughter, 
Lady  Moira — The  Fate  of  Trevecca — Lady  Huntingdon's  Good 
Will  to  the  Settlers  and  Slaves  of  Georgia  and  the  Red  Indians 
in  the  Backwoods  of  America  . .  . .  . .  . .      46 

CHAPTER   V 

The  Shirley  Tragedy — Strange  Character  of  Lawrence  Earl 
Ferrers — His  Marriage — His  Excesses  and  well-nigh  Incredible 
Ill-Treatment  of  his  Wife — Their  Separation  by  Act  of  Parlia- 
ment— The  Appointment  of  Earl  Ferrers'  Steward,  Johnson, 
with  the  Earl's  Consent,  as  one  of  the  Receivers  of  his  Master's 
Rents — The  Fury  of  the  Ear]  at  Johnson's  Transmitting  to  the 
Countess  Fifty  Pounds  Unknown  to  her  Husband — Johnson 
summoned  to  Attend  at  Stanton — The  Men  Servants  sent  out  of 
the  way — The  Women  Servants  on  the  Watch  hear  threatening 
Words  and  the  Report  of  a  Pistol— Johnson  found  Fatally 
Wounded — The  Earl's  Arrest  and  Sensational  Journey  to  Lon- 
don and  the  Tower — Lady  Huntingdon's  Compassion  for  her 
Unfortunate  Cousin — Lord  Ferrers'  Trial — The  Company 
Present — The  Sentence — The  Earl's  Last  Requests — Lady 
Huntingdon  takes  his  Children  to  Bid  him  Farewell — He 
Wears  his  Wedding  Suit  for  his  Execution — The  Cavalcade  from 
_lhe  Tower  to  Tyburn — Lord  Ferrers'  Death       .  .  .  .  .  .     65 

iv 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   VI  PAGE 

Lady  Huntingdon's  Friends — Sarah  Duchess  of  Marlborough — 
Two  of  her  Letters — Doctor  Young's  "  Narcissa  " — The 
Chesterfield  Family — The  Earl  and  Countess — Lord  Chester- 
field's Sister,  Lady  Gertrude  Hotham — Lord  Chesterfield's 
Winning  Manners — His  "  Leap  in  the  Dark  " — Triumphant 
Deaths  of  Miss  Hotham  and  her  Mother — Friends  among  the 
Wives  of  her  Clergymen,  Mrs.  Venn,  Fletcher  of  Madeley's  Wife — 
The  Peculiarities  of  the  Wives  of  John  Wesley  and  Whitefield — 
Lady  Huntingdon's  Affection  for  Airs.  Charles  Wesley — Nursing 
her  through  Smallpox — Lady  Huntingdon's  Contemporary, 
"  Grace  Murray  " — Her  Last  Meeting  with  John  Wesley — The 
Humourist,  Berridge  of  Everton,  among  Lady  Huntingdon's 
Men  Friends .  .  .  .  . .  . .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . .     79 


CHAPTER   VII 

Lady  Huntingdon's  Three  Famous  Interviews — With  Garrick  in 
the  Green  Room  of  Drury  Lane  to  Remonstrate  on  the  Gross 
Libel  of  Whitefield  as  "  Doctor  Squintum  "  in  the  Play  of  the 
Minor — Garrick's  Courtesy — Her  Interview  with  Cornwallis, 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  Mrs.  Cornwallis,  in  their  Palace 
of  Lambeth— The  Scandal  of  their  Dissipation— Rude  Rebuff 
and  Dismissal — Lady  Huntingdon's  Interview  with  King 
George  and  Queen  Charlotte  in  their  Palace  of  Kew — Gracious 
Reception  and  Attention  to  her  Protest — The  Honest  Old  King 
— "  Good  Queen  Charlotte  " — The  King's  Indignant  Letter  of 
Rebuke  to  the  Archbishop  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..114 

CHAPTER   VIII 

Death  of  Lord  Henry  Hastings  at  the  Age  of  Eighteen — Lady 
Huntingdon's  Distress — The  Eagerness  with  which  she  Listened 
to  the  Suggestion  offered  by  the  late  Earl's  Godson — The  Sick- 
ening of  Lady  Huntingdon's  Younger  and  Home  Daughter,  with 
her  Happy  Prospects  of  Marriage  to  her  Cousin — The  Future 
Heir  to  the  Huntingdon  Earldom — The  Pathos  of  the  Mother's 
Lamentation,  and  of  her  Reminiscences  of  her  Daughter's 
Peaceful  Death-bed — Berridge's  Rousing  Letter  Rebuking  the 
Countess's  Excessive  Grief  . .  . .  , .  . .  . .    127 


CHAPTER    IX 

Venerable  Saint — Countess  Moira,  the  Sole  Survivor  of  Lady 
Huntingdon's  Seven  Children — The  Earl  of  Francis  Earl  of 
Huntingdon — Old  Friends  Gone  Before — Methodism  Vindicated 
— Lady  Anne  Erskine  Playing  a  Daughter's  Part — Lady  Hun- 
tingdon's Zeal  to  the  very  End — Her  Work  Finished— Death  on 
the  17th  of  June  117  Years  Ago — Buried  at  Ashby-de-la-Zouch, 
Leicestershire — Her  Great-Great-Grandson  an  Ardent  Roman 
Catholic,   the  late  Marquis  of  Bute        .  .  . .  .  .  . .    131 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  X  PAGE 

Lady  Glenorchy,  the  Immediate  Follower  of  Lady  Huntingdon — 
Willielma  Maxwell — The  Future  Lady  Glenorchy  Born,  in 
1741,  the  Posthumous  Child  of  a  Cadet  of  the  Maxwells  of 
Nithsdale — Maxwell  of  Preston's  Co-heiresses — His  two  Baby 
Girls,  Mary  and  Willielma — Second  Marriage  of  their  Mother 
when  the  Daughters  were  Fourteen  and  Thirteen  Years  of  Age 
to  the  Scotch  Judge,  Lord  Alva — Character  of  Lady  Alva — 
Edinburgh  Society  of  the  Time — Lady  Alva's  Ambition  for  her 
Daughters — The  Maxwell  Sisters'  Great  Marriages,  the  Elder 
to  the  Earl  of  Sutherland,  the  Younger  to  Viscount  Glenorchy, 
Son  and  Heir  of  the  Earl  of  Breadalbane — The  Characters  of 
Lord  Sutherland  and  Lord  Glenorchy — The  Cloud  that  Hung 
from  the  First  over  Lady  Glenorchy's  Married  Life      . .  . .    139 

CHAPTER   XI 

Lord  Glenorchy's  Half-sister — Death  of  his  Mother  in  the  Year  of 
her  Son's  Marriage — Lord  Breadalbane's  Accompanying  his 
Son  and  Daughter-in-law  for  the  Grand  Tour — Called  Back 
from  Nice  by  the  Death  of  his  Sister — The  Young  Couple's  Un- 
satisfactory teie-d-tSte  for  the  Remainder  of  their  Two  Years' 
Absence — A  Separation  between  the  Pair  never  dreamt  of — 
Former  Rarity  of  Divorces  or  Separate  Establishments — Un- 
compromising Requirement  of  the  Fulfilment  of  Duty  in  Difficult 
Circumstances — Lord  and  Lady  Glenorchy's  Return  to  England 
and  Stay  at  his  own  House  of  Sugnall — Near  Neighbourhood 
of  Hawkestone,  the  Home  of  Sir  Rowland  Hill  and  his  Family — 
Intimacy  of  Lady  Glenorchy  with  Miss  Hill     . .  . .  . .    147 

CHAPTER    XII 

The  Retirement  of  Taymouth — Lady  Glenorchy's  Insensibility  to 
Scenery — Her  Conversion  in  1765 — The  First  Question  of  the 
Assembly's  Catechism — The  Answer  in  the  Bible  and  Prayer — 
A  Creature  dwelling  Apart  while  Seeking  to  Minister  to  all  in 
Trouble — No  Talent  for  Preaching  without  Confidence  in  Her- 
self— A  Shadow  over  her  Spiritual  Life — Her  Sacred  Songs — 
Her  Gentle  Unreasonableness — The  Sacrament  at  Dull — Her 
Preciousness  to  her  Unsympathetic  People — The  Terrible 
Sutherland  Bereavement — Lady  Alva's  Strange  Encounter — 
The  Little  Countess  afterwards  Duchess  Countess  of  Sutherland 
— Lady  Glenorchy's  Diaries  . .  . .  . .  . .  . .    163 

CHAPTER    XIII 

Lady  Glenorchy  at  Holyrood — Indifference  to  its  History — Her 
General  Friendliness — "  Means  of  Grace  "  in  Edinburgh — 
Weekly  Religious  Meetings  Presided  over  by  the  Rev.  Robert 
Walker — The  Company  Gathered  Together — A  Glimpse  of  the 
Group — Lady  Maxwell — Niddry  Wynd  Chapel — Objections  to 

vi 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

the  Liberal  Views  with  which  it  was  Planned — Doctor  Webster's 
Support — Wesley  in  Edinburgh — Conference  between  Wesley 
and  Webster  with  Lady  Glenorchy  for  Audience — Lady 
Glenorchy's  Separating  herself  from  the  Wesleyans  and  from  the 
Methodists,  also  Offending  both  Lady  Maxwell  and  Lady 
Huntingdon — Lord  Glenorchy's  Sale  of  his  Estate  of  Sugnall — 
Miss  Hill  permitted  to  pay  Long  Visits  to  Taymouth — Lord 
Glenorchy's  Purchase  of  Barnton  with  the  Chapel  he  suffered 
to  be  erected  there — First  Chaplain  who  Officiated  in  Niddry 
Wynd  Chapel  180 


CHAPTER   XIV 

Advice  to  Lady  Glenorchy  as  to  an  Anonymous  Lady — Pearls  not 
to  be  cast  before  Swine — A  Time  to  be  Silent  and  a  Time  to 
Speak — Further  Fatherly  Counsel  from  her  own  Minister,  Mr. 
Walker— The  Mistake  of  Thinking  the  First  Twenty  Years  of  her 
Life  Wasted — Lady  Glenorchy  leaving  Taymouth  for  Barnton 
in  the  Autumn  of  1771  on  account  of  Lord  Glenorchy's  Health, 
while  no  Serious  Danger  was  Anticipated  and  she  was  unusually 
Light-hearted — Alarming  Symptoms — Quitting  Edinburgh  on 
the  Morning  of  the  Sacrament  Sunday — The  Ministers  she 
Summoned  to  her  Aid — Continual  Intercession  for  the  Sick  Man 
— His  Desire  to  Listen  and  Believe— His  Death  12th  November, 
1771 — The  Divine  Support  Given  to  her — Lord  Glenorchy's 
Generous  Will  with  Lord  Breadalbane's  Concurrence..  ..    196 


CHAPTER   XV 

Lady  Glenorchy's  Income — Mr.  Walker's  Wise  Advice  as  to  its 
Disposal — Lady  Heiu-ietta  Hope — The  Hopetoun  Family — 
Lady  Glenorchy's  Edinburgh  Church — The  Quaint  Laying  of 
the  Foundation  Stone — Accident  during  the  Building — The 
Countenance  of  the  Edinburgh  Presbytery  requested  for  the 
Church — The  Opening  of  the  Church  in  1774 — Lady  Glenorchy's 
Visit  to  England — Her  Appearance  at  Pinner's  Hall — Her 
Intention  to  Nominate  her  Chaplain,  Mr.  Grove,  to  be  Minister 
of  her  Church — Her  Vexation  at  the  Reply  of  the  Presbytery 
when  she  applied  to  them  to  Confirm  her  Nomination — The 
Scandal  and  Disturbance  produced  by  their  Answer — Lady 
Glenorchy  so  Hurt  and  Mortified  that  she  would  have  quitted 
Scotland  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  Remonstrances  of  Lady 
Henrietta  Hope — Mr.  Grove's  Withdrawal  from  the  Controversy  208 


CHAPTER   XVI 

Lady  Glenorchy's  Advisers — An  Unexceptionable  Candidate — 
Objections  Nevertheless — Her  Defence — The  Majority  of  the 
Presbytery  Satisfied — The  Minority  Refer  the  Matter  to  the 
Synod — "  Jupiter  "   Carlyle  and  his   Followers — An  Injurious 

vii 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


Sentence — Lady  Glenorchy's  Friends  in  the  Synod  Appeal  to 
the  General  Assembly — Her  Candidate  Retires — She  Goes 
to  England,  instructing  her  Agent  to  Sell  Barnton — Lady 
Glenorchy  is  Joined  by  Miss  Hill  in  a  Missionary  Tour — Lady 
Glenorchy's  Constancy  to  Old  Friends — Meeting  at  the  House  of 
Mr.  Holmes,  the  Welsh  Lad  who  had  seen  her  at  Pinner's  Hall — 
The  Press-gang  Employed  Against  her  at  Exmouth — Her 
Reprisal — The  Case  in  the  General  Assembly  Practically  Settled 
in  her  Favour — Lady  Glenorchy's  Return  to  Scotland — Pathetic 
Episode  of  Mr.  Sheriff — Settlement  of  the  former  Student  of 
Trevecca  in  "  Lady  Glenorchy's  Church"  ..  ..  ..   221 


CHAPTER   XVn 

The  Hills  of  Hawkestone — Jane  Hill  and  her  Little  Brother — 
Richard  Hill  Carrying  his  Enquiries  to  Fletcher  of  Madeley — 
Jane  Hill's  Letters — "The  Value  Lady  Glenorchy  set  upon  them 
— Family  Divisions  in  the  Eighteenth  Century — Sir  Rowland 
Hill's  Merits  as  a  Man  and  as  a  Father — Young  Rowland 
Announcing  his  Brother  to  Preach — Jane  Hill's  Inherent 
Gentleness  and  Modesty — Rowland  Hill's  Recollection  of  the 
Early  Bitterness  of  the  Conflict — Refusal  of  Six  Bishops  to 
Ordain  him — Jane  Hill's  Abundant  Tribulation — Her  Consola- 
tion in  the  Friendships  she  shared — A  Quaint  Quartette  at 
Taymouth — Rowland's  Moderate  Means — His  Marriage  Help- 
ing him  to  Independence — No  Reason  to  Regard  the  Couple 
as  Ill-matched — Sir  Rowland's  Second  Marriage  and  Death- 
Sir  Richard's  Support  of  the  Methodists — One  of  the  Trevecca 
Anniversaries  at  which  both  Rowland  and  Jane  Hill  were 
Present — Sir  John  Hill's  Five  Soldier  Sons — WTiat  would  Jane 
Hill  have  thought  of  the  great  London  Illumination  and  the 
Transparency  set  in  front  of  Surrey  Chapel  illustrating  the 
words  "  The  Tyrant  has  Fallen  ?  " — The  Courage  of  Rowland 
the  Soldier  and  Rowland  the  Preacher — Darcy  Brisbane  of 
Brisbane  afterwards  Lady  Maxwell  of  Pollok,  born  about  1742 
— In  London  at  Sixteen  to  be  Presented  at  Court — At  Seven- 
teen Married  to  Sir  Walter  Maxwell  of  Pollok— Death  of 
Husband  and  Child — Her  Unsuccessful  Suitors — Her  House 
in  Princes  Street,  Edinburgh — Her  Acceptance  of  Wesleyan 
Tenets — Her  Friendship  with  Lady  Glenorchy — Lady  Maxwell's 
Adopted  Daughter,  Lady  Henrietta  Hope — The  Blow  to  Lady 
Maxwell  of  Lady  Henrietta  Hope's  Death — Weekly  Gathering 
of  Wesleyan  Ministers  at  Lady  Maxwell's  House — A  Day  of  her 
Life — Her  Signed  Covenant  with  her  Maker — Her  Assured  Faith 
Alike  in  her  Justification  and  Sanctification — Her  Gifts  to  John 
Wesley — Her  Schools  and  Sunday  Schools,  her  Fidelity  to 
Lady  Glenorchy's  Trust  and  her  Visits  to  England  as  Lady  Glen- 
orchy's Representative — Lady  Maxwell's  Premature  Infirmity 
— Her  Peaceful  Death  at  the  age  of  sixty-eight  in  1810  . .   237 

^  viii 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER    XVIII 


Frequent  Administxatiou  of  the  Sacrament  Introduced  in  Lady 
Glenorchy's  Church — Her  Visits  to  England — Death  of  Lord 
Hopetoun — Lady  Henrietta  Hope's  Home  with  Lady  Glenorchy 
— Opening  of  a  Meeting-house  at  Carhsle — Last  Visit  to  Tay- 
mouth — Lord  Breadalbane's  Death  at  Holyrood — Lady 
Glenorchy  at  Barnton — Declining  Health — At  Moffat,  where 
Visitors  Drank  Goat's  Whey  as  well  as  Mineral  Water — Her 
Work  among  the  Sick  Poor — Breakdown  of  Lady  Glenorchy's 
Carriage  at  Matlock  and  Founding  of  a  Chapel  there — Last  Visit 
to  the  Hills — Return  to  Edinburgh — Life  Despaired  of — A 
Rally  and  a  Final  Stay  at  Barnton — At  Matlock  with  Lady 
Henrietta  Hope  in  1785— Resort  to  Bristol  to  Try  the  Hot 
Springs — Death  of  Lady  Henrietta  Hope  at  Bristol  on  New 
Year's  Day,  1786 — Her  Request  to  Found  a  Chapel  at  Bristol 
Carried  out  by  Lady  Glenorchy — The  Chapel  named  the  Hope 
Chapel  as  a  Memorial  of  a  Faithful  Friendship — One  more  Visit 
to  her  Chapels  at  Exmouth,  Matlock  and  Carlisle  with  the  last 
Chapel  she  Established  at  Workington — Barnton  Sold — Lady 
Glenorchy  with  her  Aunt,  Miss  Hairstanes,  in  the  Countess  of 
Sutherland's  House  in  George  Square — Interview  with  Mr. 
Jones — Brief  Illness — Her  Remark  to  Herself,  "  If  this  be  Dying 
it  is  the  pleasantest  thing  imaginable  " — Her  Death  on  the 
17th  of  July,  1786.  in  her  forty-fifth  year — Buried  in  an  Excava- 
tion of  the  Rock  on  which  her  Church  was  built,  her  head 
resting  under  the  Communion  Table      . .  . .  . .  . .   273 


IX 


List  of  Illustrations 


SELINA   COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

(Photogravure)    ..... 

THE  EARL  OF  HUNTINGDON  .... 
GEORGE    WHITEFIELD.  .... 

TREVECCA  HOUSE  ..... 
OLD   CHESHUNT   COLLEGE      .... 

CHARLES  WESLEY 

ALLEGORICAL  PICTURE  OF  LADY  HUNTINGDON 
LADY  GLENORCHY  ..... 
AUGUSTUS   MONTAGUE   TOPLADY    {AuthoY  of 

"  Rock  of  Ages ")        .         .         .         .        „  p.  252 


FrontisP'i 

iece. 

To 

face  p. 

8 

P- 

26 

P- 

58 

P- 

62 

P- 

92 

P- 

134 

P- 

204 

XI 


The  Countess  of  Huntingdon 
And  her  Circle 


CHAPTER   I 

The  Moral  and  Religious  State  of  England  in  the  Eighteenth  Century — 
The  Oxford  Revival — The  Woman  who  was  the  Comrade  of  John 
and  Charles  Wesley  and  George  Whitefield — Lady  Selina  Shirley 
Born  in  the  Reign  of  Queen  Anne  in  the  Year  of  the  Union  of  the 
English  and  Scotch  Parliaments — The  Tradition  of  the  Early  Im- 
pression made  upon  her  by  a  Village  Child's  Funeral — The  Engrav- 
ing which  represents  her  as  Lady  Huntingdon  when  well  advanced 
in  years — Her  two  Sisters  Co-heiresses  with  her  of  her  Father, 
Earl  Ferrers'  Fortune — The  Elder  Sister,  Lady  Elizabeth  Night- 
ingale, one  of  Roubilliac's  famous  Group  in  Westminster  Abbey — 
The  younger,  Mary  Lady  Kilmorey — Lady  Selina  Shirley's  Marriage 
in  1728  to  Theophilus  Hastings,  Earl  of  Huntingdon — His  High 
Character  and  Fine  Intellect — Her  Visits  to  Town  and  Entrance 
into  Court  Circles  and  into  Literary  Society  with  her  Aunt,  Lady 
Fanny  Shirley,  the  Friend  of  Horace  Walpole,  Pope,  Chesterfield, 
and  Doctor  Hervey  of  the  "  Meditations  Among  the  Tombs  " — 
Lady  Huntingdon's  presence  among  the  Party  of  Ladies  in  the 
Gallery  of  the  House  of  Lords  sarcastically  described  by  Lady 
Mary  Wortley  Montagu. 

Through  much  of  the  eighteenth  century  it  may 
be  said  that  in  England  vice  was  rampant  in  high 
places  and  gross  darkness  covered  the  people. 

In  addition,  a  wave  of  infidelity — the  cynical, 
blighting  infidelity  of  Voltaire — was  sweeping  over 
the  more  intellectual  and  cultured  classes,  while 
the  lower  ranks  were  sunk  in  ignorance  and 
brutality  of  every  kind. 

1 


THE   COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

It  almost  seemed  as  if,  in  spite  of  the  honest 
endeavours  of  George  the  III  and  Queen  Charlotte 
to  maintain  a  pure  Court  and  to  rule  over  a  virtuous 
and  reHgious  nation,  notwithstanding  the  honour- 
able exceptions  to  the  laxity  and  corruption  of 
the  times,  Christianity,  which  St.  Augustine  had 
taught  and  saints  innumerable  had  illustrated  by 
holy  lives,  and  martyrs  many  had  sealed  by  their 
devoted  deaths,  was  about  to  be  submerged  to 
make  room  for  the  atheism  and  heathenism  which 
were  to  reign  in  the  future. 

It  was  then  that  a  cluster  of  young  men  at 
Oxford,  awakened,  by  the  grace  of  God,  to  higher 
thoughts  and  loftier  aspirations,  stimulated  by 
each  other's  companionship  and  example,  came 
forth  into  the  great  world  with  almost  unparalleled 
self-sacrifice.  These  champions  of  the  truth  and 
rescuers  of  the  lapsed  gave  themselves  to  a  noble 
work,  and  spent  themselves  in  its  prosecution. 
Before  they  ended  their  days  they  redeemed  the 
situation  and  changed  the  whole  aspect  of 
Christian  England.  They  leavened  the  Church 
which  ejected  them  with  their  genuine  Christianity. 
They  even  salted  with  their  spirituality  the  super- 
cilious sneering  circles  and  fierce  unreasoning 
crowds  that  had  most  subtly  and  most  violently 
opposed  them. 

The  acts  of  John  and  Charles  Wesley,  George 

2 


AN   ENGLISH   DEBORAH 

Whitefield  and  their  fellows,  have  been  fully 
commemorated ;  but  the  woman  who  worked  along 
with  them  from  youth  to  age,  who  gave  her  time, 
her  influence,  her  substance,  and  the  remarkable 
organising  and  ruling  power  which  rendered  her 
the  English  Deborah  of  her  church  and  generation, 
has  been  less  fortunate  in  her  biographers.  The 
chief,  her  collateral  descendant,  full  of  reverent 
enthusiasm  for  his  ancestress,  and  in  entire 
sympathy  with  her  aims,  has  written  the  story  of 
her  Ufe  in  two  volumes.  But  while  these  contain 
much  that  is  profitable,  interesting  and  quaint, 
they  are  rather  the  history  of  Methodism  than 
the  record  of  one  woman's  blessings  and  trials, 
and  the  style  of  the  writer  is  so  discursive  that 
to  find — in  anything  Uke  sequence  the  incidents 
which  concern  the  central  figure,  resembles  the 
proverbial  difficulty  of  seeking  for  a  needle  in  a 
hay-stack.  It  seems  therefore  desirable,  lest  a 
name  deserving  of  honour  should  be  forgotten  by 
the  many  who  run  as  they  read,  that  a  more 
concise  and  individual  study  of  a  great  and  good 
woman  should  be  offered  to  the  public. 

Sehna  Countess  of  Huntingdon  was  born  (prob- 
ably at  her  father's  house  of  Stanton  in  Leicester- 
shire) in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne,  in  the  year  of 
the  union  of  the  English  and  Scotch  ParHaments, 
two    hundred    years   ago,    1707.     She    was   the 

3 


THE    COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

second  of  the  three  daughters  and  co-heiresses 
of  Washington  Shirley,  second  Earl  Ferrers  and 
Mary  Levinge,  daughter  of  Sir  Richard  Levinge, 
Solicitor-General  for  Ireland  and  Speaker  of  the 
House  of  Commons.  By  both  father  and  mother 
Lady  Selina  was  of  ancient  and  honourable 
descent. 

The  tradition  survives  that  when  a  little  girl 
of  nine  years  she  was  much  impressed  by  coming 
in  contact  with  the  funeral  of  a  child  of  her  own 
age.  She  joined  in  the  procession  and  prayed  on 
the  spot  that  when  her  time  came  God  would 
deliver  her  from  her  fears.  With  more  tenacity 
than  is  usually  found  in  so  youthful  a  penitent, 
she  was  in  the  habit  for  some  time  of  repairing  to 
a  closet  in  her  father's  house  where  she  could  pray 
unobserved.  She  persuaded  her  elder  and  younger 
sisters  to  accompany  her  for  the  same  purpose. 
She  repeatedly  visited  the  dead  child's  grave, 
and  she  retained  through  life  a  vivid  recollection 
of  the  pathetic  scene  which  had  produced  so 
strong  an  impression  upon  her. 

If  the  child  is  mother  to  the  woman.  Lady 
SeUna  Shirley  was  likely  to  grow  up  a  girl  at  once 
impulsive  and  thoughtful.  The  engraving  which 
is  given  of  her  in  her  kinsman's  book  represents 
her  when  well  up  in  years.  She  wears  the  cum- 
brous  but   not   altogether   unbecoming   widow's 

4 


LADY   SELINA   SHIRLEY 

dress  of  the  period.  The  voluminous  cap  which 
frames  her  head,  the  loose  black  dress  which  shows 
the  ample  white  neckerchief,  and  the  ruffles  ending 
the  elbow  sleeves,  leaving  bare  the  still  fine  arms 
and  hands,  all  belonged  to  the  costume  of  the 
period.  She  leans  with  one  hand  against  her 
cheek,  the  elbow  resting  on  a  pile  of  books ; 
another  book — surely  her  well-beloved  Bible — 
she  holds  in  the  other  hand.  The  attitude  is  full 
of  dignity  and  repose,  while  the  face  is  infinitely 
pathetic,  because  of  the  lines  of  sorrow  and  care 
written  there  for  one  who  in  addition  to  the  burden 
of  years  and  the  trials  of  life,  took  upon  her 
woman's  shoulders  the  anxieties  and  responsibili- 
ties of  widely  extended  works  of  beneficence,  and 
the  cares  of  all  her  churches. 

She  was  tall,  and  looks  as  if  she  might  have  been 
in  her  earlier  days  graceful  or  "  elegant,"  according 
to  the  word  much  in  use  in  her  generation.  In 
spite  of  the  wide,  low  brow,  and  the  deep  dark 
eyes,  with  their  tale  of  keen  observation,  and 
interest  in  all  that  was  passing  around  her,  she 
had  not,  judging  from  the  likeness,  any  great  claim 
to  personal  beauty.  The  nose  is  decidedly  too  long 
and  the  mouth  is  at  once  too  wide  and  too  tightly 
compressed,  though  the  last  defect  may  have 
been  exaggerated  by  age.  It  might  have  been 
said  of  her  that  while  beauty  is    deceitful  and 

5 

2—11300) 


THE  COUNTESS   OF  HUNTINGDON 

favour  is  vain,  the  woman  that  feareth  the  Lord 
she  shall  be  praised. 

When  Lady  Selina  was  grown  up  she  is  said  to 
have  been  strict  and  precise  in  the  performance 
of  her  duties,  striving  to  work  out  her  salvation 
by  her  good  deeds,  without  the  knowledge  and 
comprehension  of  the  fulness  and  freeness  of 
Gospel  grace.  After  she  had  entered  into  society 
she  still  retained  so  much  of  her  earnestness  and 
thoughtfulness  that  her  prayer  was  that  she  might 
marry  into  a  serious  family,  a  prayer  which  was 
certainly  granted. 

Lady  Selina' s  elder  sister.  Lady  Elizabeth, 
married  two  years  before  her,  and  died  young, 
after  the  birth  of  two  children.  If  Roubilliac  the 
sculptor's  work  enters  into  the  anguish  of  the 
parting  between  husband  and  wife,  the  marriage 
must  have  been  a  happy  one,  for  she  was  the 
Lady  EUzabeth  Nightingale  whose  famous  monu- 
ment in  Westminster  Abbey  represents  the  young 
pair,  he  striving  in  despair  to  shield  her  from 
the  dart  which  Death  is  aiming  at  her  shrinking 
form. 

The  younger  sister,  Lady  Mary,  married  at  a 
later  date  an  Irish  peer.  Lord  Kilmorey. 

Lady  Selina,  the  ruUng  spirit  of  the  little  group, 
made  the  best  marriage,  in  a  worldly  sense,  of 
the  three  girls.     In  every  other  sense  no  union  of 

6 


A   NOBLE   PAIR 

hearts  could  have  been  more  perfect,  where 
imperfect  humanity  is  in  question,  no  wedlock 
more  blessing  and  blessed,  in  this  world  of  sin 
and  sorrow,  than  that  which  tied  the  knot  in  June, 
1728,  between  Lady  SeHna  Shirley  and  Theophilus 
Hastings,  ninth  Earl   of   Huntingdon. 

She  was  twenty-one,  and  he  was  thirty-two  years 
of  age.  She  survived  him  forty-five  years,  and  to 
the  last,  in  extreme  old  age,  she  could  not  mention 
his  name  without  tears  of  affection  and  regret  for 
their  long  separation  in  this  world.  All  those  who 
knew  them,  both  her  friends  and  the  men  and 
women  widely  different  in  principle  and  practice, 
join  in  recording  his  tender  attachment  to  her, 
and  her  loving  appreciation  of  his  talents  and 
virtues. 

In  birth,  rank,  and  wealth,  his  claims  exceeded 
hers.  He  could  boast  royal  descent  through  a  long 
line  of  noble  ancestors,  for  the  family  sprang  from 
a  Plantagenet  Prince,  that  Duke  of  Clarence  who 
was  brother  to  Edward  IV.  Lord  Huntingdon's 
standing  among  his  peers  was  such  that  the  year 
before  his  marriage,  he  was  selected  to  carry  the 
Sword  of  State  at  the  Coronation  of  George  II. 
The  dignity  and  bounty  of  his  establishment  of 
Donnington  Park  surpassed  the  advantages  of 
Stanton,  but  these  were  the  least  of  its  master's 
merits.  ^ 

7 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

He  was  a  man  of  high  character,  superior  intel- 
lect and  liberal  and  generous  temper.  After  he 
had  completed  his  studies  at  Oxford  he  made  the 
Grand  Tour,  which  in  his  case  extended  to  Italy 
and  Spain.  His  intimate  associates  and  friends — 
among  them  Lords  Bolingbroke  and  Chesterfield — 
were  the  most  gifted  and  accomplished  men  of  the 
day,  though,  in  other  respects,  the  two  mentioned 
were  unlike  Lord  Huntingdon — the  sane,  mentally 
and  morally,  modest  English  gentleman,  the 
model  of  the  domestic  virtues. 

In  her  husband's  house  the  young  Countess's 
talents  were  cultured,  not  only  by  constant  inter- 
course with  a  man  of  fine  judgment,  wide  know- 
ledge and  upright  conduct,  but  by  contact  with 
distinguished  statesmen  and  brilliant  wits. 

Neither  did  she  remain  apart  from  town  society 
and  Court  circles.  In  her  visits  to  London  she 
mixed  freely  with  both,  while  it  is  not  difficult  to 
believe  that  she  was  largely  indifferent  to  the 
monotonous  round  of  what  were  then  high-bred 
entertainments,  the  foolish  masquerades,  the  noisy 
routs,  the  morning  auctions,  the  free-and-easy 
company  of  the  public  Gardens,  especially  the 
gambling  which  formed  the  staple  attraction  in 
the  gaieties  of  the  hour. 

Her  educated  taste,  as  well  as  her  serious  prin- 
ciples had  spoiled  her  for  such  amusements.     She 

8 


THE    EARL    OF    HUNTINGDON 

By  permission  oj  the  Governors  ofChcsliiint  College,  Cambridge 


POPE  AT  TWICKENHAM 

greatly  preferred  what  literary  society  she  could 

command,  and  that  she  was  fortunate  in  procuring 

at  the  house  of  a  near  and  dear  relation  and  a 

lifelong  friend,   her  father's  sister.  Lady  Fanny 

Shirley. 

Lady  Fanny  had  a  villa  at  Twickenham  in  the 

immediate  vicinity  of  Pope's  villa.     With  the  great 

poet  and  httle  crabbed  man,  the  lady,  who  was  a 

host  in  herself,  was  on  most  friendly  terms.     Did 

she  not  present  him  on  his  birthday  with  the 

appropriate  gift  of  a  stand-dish  and  a  couple  of 

pens  ?    And  did  he  not  acknowledge  the  tribute 

in  immortal  verse  beginning — 

"  Yes,  I  behold  the  Athenian  Queen 
Descend  in  all  her  sober  charms." 

Neither  was  Pope's  the  only  poetic  and  literary 
offering  laid  at  Lady  Fanny's  feet.  Lord  Chester- 
field was  supposed  to  have  had  her  in  his  mind 
in  the  protest — 

"  So  the  first  man  from  Paradise  was  driven," 
and  Hervey,  of  the  solemnly  sentimental  "  Medita- 
tions Among  the  Tombs,"  dedicated  to  her  his 
dialogues  between  Theron  and  Aspasia. 

Lady  Fanny  was  not  unworthy  of  such  compli- 
ments, for  she  had  been  a  beauty,  a  belle,  and  a 
bas  bleu  at  the  Courts  of  George  I,  and  George  II, 
a  rival  of  Lady  Wortley  Montagu,  and  a  friend 
of  Horace  Walpole's.     She  lived  to  show  herself 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

a  good  and  brave  woman,  who  could,  when 
necessary,  defy  the  prejudices  of  her  set,  and  face 
their  incredulous  jeers  and  mockery. 

It  is  an  evidence  of  Lady  Huntingdon's  inclina- 
tion even  in  those  early  years  to  think  and  act  for 
herself,  that  she  was  on  intimate  terms  with  Lady 
Townshend,  the  most  outrageously  eccentric 
woman  of  all  the  eccentric  women  of  the  time 
who  rose  up  to  stir  the  stagnation  of  high  hfe. 
Under  her  oddities  she  had  quick  penetration  and 
shrewd  observation. 

It  might  have  been  under  Lady  Townshend's 
auspices,  when  infected  with  a  desire  to  surprise  her 
companions  by  carrying  into  action  some  fancy 
of  the  moment,  that  young  Countess  Selina 
indulged  in  certain  caprices  of  her  own  in  the 
matter  of  dress,  for  which  she  never  seems  to  have 
really  cared,  much  beyond  what  was  becoming  in 
her  station  and  at  her  years.  The  trifling  absurdity 
was  long  remembered,  and  was  brought  forward 
against  her  in  later  days  (by  the  many  among  her 
companions  who  were  hostile  to  her)  as  the  first 
symptom  of  the  Shirley  madness,  breaking  out 
eventually  in  religious  mania. 

A  witness  against  the  offender,  whose  own 
nature  in  its  amiable  harmoniousness  and  mod- 
eration was  incapable  of  startling  the  pubhc, 
even  as  she  was  incapable  of  a  great  woman's 

10 


A  REMARKABLE  DRESS 

self-sacrifice  in  the  service  of  her  Maker  and  her 
kind,  has  described  one  of  the  singular  dresses 
worn  by  Lady  Huntingdon  at  a  Drawing-room 
held  by  Augusta  Princess  of  Wales,  the  mother 
of  George  II L 

"  Her  petticoat  was  of  black  velvet  embroidered 
with  chenille,  the  pattern  a  large  stone  vase  filled 
with  rampant  flowers  that  spread  over  almost  a 
breadth  of  the  petticoat  from  the  bottom  to  the 
top  ;  between  each  vase  of  flowers  was  a  pattern 
of  gold  shells  and  foliage,  embossed  and  most 
heavily  rich.  The  gown  was  of  white  satin, 
embroidered  also  with  chenille,  mixed  with  gold, 
no  vase  on  the  sleeve,  but  two  or  three  on  the 
tail.  It  was  a  most  laboured  piece  of  finery,  the 
pattern  much  properer  for  a  stucco  staircase  than 
the  apparel  of  a  lady." 

So  wrote  somewhat  scornfully  Mrs.  Pendarvis, 
one  of  the  most  attractive  women  of  her  time, 
whose  nature  had  not  the  smallest  affinity  to  that 
of  Lady  Huntingdon.  Yet  with  her  and  with  her 
sister,  Ann  Granville,  John  Wesley  in  the  early 
days  of  Methodism,  engaged  for  a  brief  space  in 
one  of  those  half- sentimental  half -religious  corre- 
spondences, in  which  the  writers  signed  themselves 
by  fantastically  classical  names.  The  practice 
was  so  much  in  fashion  that  even  the  most  earnest 
men  and  women  took  it  up. 

11 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

Another  Court-dress  of  Lady  Huntingdon's,  of 
which  a  note  was  made,  was  even  more  outre. 
For  painted  and  embroidered  flowers  there  were 
animals  of  every  description.  One  is  almost 
tempted  to  suspect  a  satirical  allegory  in  the 
representation  of  beasts  ramping  over  the  petticoat 
and  train,  beasts  ranging  from  the  lordly  lion  to 
the  loathly  serpent. 

It  sounds  far  more  in  keeping  with  Lady 
Huntingdon's  character  and  sympathies  to  find 
that  she  was  occupied  with  the  politics  in  which 
her  husband  played  a  part  at  this  period. 

She  was  fain  to  hear  him  and  his  friends  speak  in 
a  debate  in  the  House  of  Lords.  On  account  of 
the  interest  excited  in  a  question  of  Spanish  en- 
croachments and  depredations  on  English  property, 
the  crowd  in  the  Strangers'  Gallery  was  so  great 
that  not  an  inch  of  space  was  left  of  which  the 
wives  of  privileged  members  could  avail  themselves. 

On  this  occasion  Lady  Huntingdon  is  found  one 
of  a  group  of  women  of  rank  on  whose  conduct 
Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  employed  her  caustic 
pen  unsparingly.  Here  were  the  Duchess  of 
Queensberry,  Prior's  "  Charming  Kitty,"  no  longer 
young  or  particularly  charming,  the  Duchess  of 
Ancaster,  and  other  ladies  of  title.  And  here  again 
was  the  young  widow,  Mary  Pendarvis,  the 
Duchess  of  Portland's  "  Fair  Penny,"  whom  Lord 

12 


"FAIR   PENNY" 

Baltimore  jilted  shamefully  about  this  time,  Dean 
Delany's  future  wife,  and  finally  the  dear,  dainty, 
venerable  dame,  the  privileged  pensioner  of 
George  III  and  Queen  Charlotte,  the  writer  of  the 
delightful  letters  to  which  later  generations  are 
indebted  for  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  her 
familiars.  Mary  Granville,  Pendarvis,  Delany 
was  only  less  gifted  than  her  wonderful  predecessor 
across  the  Channel,  Madame  de  S6vigne,  who  has 
preserved  the  records  of  the  Courts  of  the  great 
Louis  and  his  successor,  and  at  the  same  time 
vouchsafed  a  ghmpse  of  the  throbbing,  warm, 
tender  heart  of  a  woman  of  genius. 

The  adventure  of  the  cluster  of  ladies,  which 
would  doubtless  have  been  given  very  differently 
by  one  of  themselves — Mary  Pendarvis — was 
written  with  biting  satire  by  a  woman  of  talent, 
not  of  genius,  of  cool  worldly  wisdom,  insolent 
brilliance,  and  sphinx-like  history. 

Lady  Mary  began,  after  her  fashion,  by  carefully 
chronicUng  the  names  of  the  actors  in  the  comedy 
on  the  pretence  that  she  looked  upon  the  owners  of 
the  names  as  "  the  boldest  asserters  and  most 
resigned  sufferers  for  liberty  of  whom  she  had 
ever  read." 

"  They  presented  themselves  at  the  door  of  the 
House  of  Lords  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
when  Sir  William  Sanderson  respectfully  informed 

13 


THE   COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

them  that  the   Chancellor  had  made  an  order 
against  their  admittance. 

"  The  Duchess  of  Queensberry,  piqued  at  the 
ill-breeding  of  a  mere  lawyer,  desired  Sir  WilUam 
to  let  them  upstairs  privately. 

**  After  some  modest  refusals,  he  swore  he  would 
not  admit  them  ;  her  Grace,  with  a  noble  warmth, 
answered  they  would  come  in,  in  spite  of  the 
Chancellor  and  the  whole  House. 

"  This  reported,  the  Peers  resolved  to  starve 
them  out ;  an  order  was  made  that  the  doors 
should  not  be  open  till  they  had  raised  the  siege. 

"  These  Amazons  now  showed  themselves  quali- 
fied for  the  duty  of  foot  soldiers  ;  they  stood  there 
till  five  in  the  afternoon,  without  sustenance,  every 
now  and  then  plying  volleys  of  thumps,  kicks,  and 
raps,  with  so  much  violence  against  the  door  that 
the  speakers  in  the  House  were  scarce  heard. 

**  When  the  Lords  were  not  to  be  conquered  by 
this,  the  two  Duchesses — very  well  apprised  of  the 
use  of  stratagem  in  war — commanded  a  silence  of 
half-an-hour ;  and  the  Chancellor,  who  thought 
this  a  certain  proof  of  their  absence  (the  Commons 
also  being  impatient  to  enter),  gave  orders  for  the 
opening  of  the  door. 

"  Upon  which  they  (the  ladies)  all  rushed  in, 
pushed  aside  their  competitors,  and  placed 
themselves  in  the  front  rows  of  the  gallery. 

14 


A   SUCCESSFUL   STRATAGEM 

"  They  stayed  there  till  after  eleven,  when  the 
House  rose  ;  and  during  the  debate  gave  applause 
and  showed  marked  signs  of  dislike,  not  only  by 
smiles  and  winks  (which  have  always  been  allowed 
in  these  cases),  but  by  noisy  laughter  and  apparent 
contempt,  which  is  supposed  to  be  the  reason  why 
poor  Lord  Hervey  spoke  so  miserably." 


15 


CHAPTER  II 

Lord  Huntingdon's  Five  Sisters — Countess  Selina's  Chief  Friend, 
Lady  Margaret,  who  had  been  "  as  happy  as  an  angel  "  from  the 
time  she  had  adopted  the  Methodist  views — Lady  Huntingdon's 
Hesitation — Her  Dangerous  Illness  and  Decision — The  Message  she 
sent  to  the  Wesleys — Lord  Huntingdon's  Fair-mindedness  and 
Kindness — The  Marriages  of  two  of  his  Sisters  to  English  Clergymen 
holding  Methodist  opinions — Lord  Huntingdon's  Advice  to  his 
Wife  to  consult  his  old  Tutor,  "  Good  Bishop  Benson  " — Her 
Arguments — The  Bishop's  Conviction  that  she  Owed  them  to 
Whitefield,  with  his  Regret  that  he  had  Ordained  the  Ardent 
Reformer — Her  Answer — The  Fascination  Whitefield  had  for  the 
Fine  Ladies  of  the  Day — The  Persecution  suffered  by  the  Method- 
ists— Some  of  the  Salt  of  the  Earth  against  them — Hannah  More 
Thankful  that  she  had  never  attended  their  Conventicles  or  entered 
their  Tabernacles — Countess  Selina's  Sense  of  Accountability  for 
her  own  Class. 

As  Lady  Selina  Shirley,  the  young  Countess  had 
longed  and  prayed  to  enter  on  her  marriage  into 
a  "  serious  family,"  and  she  was  not  baulked  of  her 
wish.  Lord  Huntingdon's  five  sisters  and  half- 
sisters — Lady  Betty,  Lady  Margaret,  Lady  Fanny, 
Lady  Catherine,  and  Lady  Ann — were  all  good 
women,  two  of  them.  Lady  Betty — much  the 
senior  of  some  of  the  others — and  Lady  Margaret 
being  the  most  conspicuous  for  their  good 
deeds. 

The  Countess  was  a  kindred  spirit  at  Donnington 
Park,  Ashby  Place,  and  my  Lord's  other  seats. 
She  was  a  great  dame  indeed,  and  in  all  the  obhga- 
tions  of  her  station  she  was  as  commendable  as  she 
had  been  in  her  girlhood.     She  was  particular  in 

16 


LIFE   AT   DONNINGTON   PARK 

the  fulfilment  of  every  task  which  devolved  upon 
her.  These  ranged  from  the  dignity  and  blame- 
lessness  with  which  she  ruled  her  household  and 
entertained  the  distinguished  company  which 
gathered  round  her  husband — to  the  careful 
consideration  of  what  was  due  to  the  sacred 
offices  of  the  chaplain  at  Donnington  Park  and 
to  the  vicar  of  the  parish.  To  the  prayers  of  the 
one  she  listened  reverently,  while  she  required  the 
same  respectful  attention  to  his  lessons  from  the 
rest  of  the  household.  To  the  other  she  gave 
ungrudging  support  by  her  unfailing  attendance 
at  church  and  by  her  liberal  charities,  which  as 
often  as  she  could  she  administered  personally. 

With  her  sisters-in-law  Lady  Huntingdon  lived 
on  intimate  and  affectionate  terms,  the  two 
families  being  frequently  together  at  Donnington 
Park  and  Ashby.  She  was  not  the  style  of  woman 
to  be  jealous  of  her  husband's  relatives  or  to  keep 
up  long  bickering  quarrels  with  them  on  their 
mutual  rights.  Both  she  and  they  knew  her  place 
as  the  wife  of  the  head  of  the  house,  the  woman 
who  in  her  prime  could  organise  and  control  with 
admirable  judgment  and  justice  a  great  rehgious 
system  and  community  to  which  the  diocese  of  an 
ordinary  bishop  was  a  trifle.  She  experienced  no 
trouble  in  recognising  and  claiming  her  own  posi- 
tion, and  in  relegating  the  members  of  her  circle 

17 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

to  the  positions  which  they  were  qualified  and 
entitled  to  fill. 

Of  her  excellent  sisters-in-law,  Lady  Margaret 
came  the  nearest  to  the  Countess,  but  even  with 
Lady  Margaret  there  was  a  crow  to  pluck  in  the 
first  stages  of  their  close  alliance  more  than 
once.  The  Ladies  Hastings,  and  especially  Lady 
Margaret,  had  come  betimes  under  the  influence  of 
the  Methodist  followers  of  the  group  of  enthusiastic 
young  men  at  Oxford  who  had  read  a  new  meaning 
into  the  title-deeds  of  religion. 

These  reformers,  amidst  violent  opposition  and 
the  utmost  obloquy,  expressed  frequently  by  the 
very  clergymen  who  were  their  brethren  in  the 
ministry,  were  spreading  their  astonishing  tenets 
far  and  wide.  The  crusade  extended  from  rural 
England  to  the  new  far  western  colony  of  Georgia, 
with  its  slave-owners  and  slaves. 

Lady  Huntingdon  was  still  in  doubt  of  these 
Methodists,  whose  fiery  zeal  seemed  to  outrun  all 
prudence  and  propriety,  while  their  eccentricities, 
said  to  be  subversive  of  law  and  order,  were  keeping 
the  country  in  a  state  of  constant  commotion. 

Lady  Huntingdon's  was  a  complex  temperament. 
On  one  side  she  was  original,  with  much  self- 
resource,  even  with  a  touch  of  what  was  racy  and 
bizarre  as  well  as  warmly  impulsive  ;  on  the  other 
hand  she  was  the  born  aristocrat,  with  a  strong 

18 


SPIRITUAL   PERPLEXITY 

regard  for  law  and  order,  and  an  aversion  to  tumult 
and  turmoil  of  any  kind.  The  overthrow  of  exist- 
ing standards  and  institutions  was  naturally 
repugnant  to  her. 

She  was  perplexed  by  Lady  Margaret's  assertion 
that  ever  since  she  had  known  some  of  these 
Methodist  preachers  and  had  believed  in  their 
doctrines,  she  had  been  "  as  happy  as  an  angel." 

Was  Countess  Selina  as  happy  as  an  angel — 
with  an  angel's  or  a  child's  fearless  trust  and  perfect 
peace  ?  She  had  all  a  woman  could  ask  to  make 
her  happy  ;  the  husband  of  her  choice,  true  and 
kind,  fine  children,  faithful  friends,  rank,  wealth, 
and  deserved  honour  and  esteem  ;  neither  was  she 
without  the  "  thankful  heart "  which  Joseph 
Addison  had  quoted  as  doubUng  all  other  blessings. 

But  she  had  not  the  impUcit  trust  and  unclouded 
peace  any  more  than  she  had  the  devouring  absorp- 
tion in  their  work,  which  caused  those  Methodists 
to  throw  up  every  worldly  advantage,  to  leave 
behind  them  safe  and  happy  homes,  to  rehnquish 
the  sweet  affection  of  wife  and  child,  mother  and 
sister,  in  order  to  face  gross  insult  and  brutal  injury, 
from  which  they  barely  escaped  with  their  lives, 
because  they  held  their  Master's  commission  and 
would  save  souls. 

She  could  not  act  up  to  her  ideals.  She  had 
many  worries  and  mortifications.     She  was  often 

19 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

dissatisfied  and  restless.  She  could  not  "  rest  in 
the  Lord,"  for  her  Lord  was  a  jealous  God,  and 
when  she  thought  how  inadequate  to  his  unutter- 
able majesty  and  holiness  were  the  offerings  which 
she  made  to  him  of  her  poor,  paltry  service,  the 
terror  of  His  righteous  condemnation  would  come 
over  her,  and  she  would  abase  herself  in  the  dust 
and  cower  before  the  fear  of  Death  and  the  Judg- 
ment as  when  in  her  childhood  she  was  brought 
face  to  face  with  a  child's  funeral. 

While  Lady  Huntingdon  hesitated,  she  was 
stricken  with  a  sudden,  sharp  illness,  from  which 
her  life  was  in  danger,  and  the  matter  was  decided 
for  her.  She  remembered  the  words  of  Lady 
Margaret,  felt  an  ardent  desire  to  cast  herself  and 
her  sins  on  her  Saviour,  yielded  herself  to  the 
Gospel  call,  renounced  every  other  hope,  and  for 
the  first  time  knew  the  rest  and  joy  of  beUeving. 
From  the  date  of  this  change  she  began  to  recover, 
and  was  restored  to  health  once  more. 

As  it  happened,  John  and  Charles  Wesley  were 
then  preaching  in  the  neighbourhood,  in  private 
houses,  court-yards,  barns,  etc.  Lady  Huntingdon 
sent  them  a  message  that  she  was  one  with  them 
in  heart.  She  wished  them  good  speed  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord,  and  ended  by  assuring  them  of 
her  determined  purpose  to  hve  for  Him  who  had 
died  for  her. 

20 


METHODISM   AND   PERSECUTION 

This  was  to  a  certain  extent  casting  in  her  lot 
with  the  despised,  derided  Methodists,  and  it 
aroused  a  storm  of  amazement  and  condemnation. 
She  immediately  received  her  share  of  the  rudeness 
and  abuse  with  which  they  were  loaded. 

Lord  Huntingdon  would  not  interpose  his 
authority  to  withdraw  her  from  her  new  friends 
and  their  pursuits,  like  other  husbands  in  similar 
case. 

The  most  notorious  of  these  indignant  and  in- 
tolerant gentlemen  was  Frederick  Frankland,  Esq., 
member  for  Thirsk,  in  Yorkshire.  He  had  taken 
for  his  second  wife  a  partner  no  longer  young, 
Lady  Anne  Lumley,  a  daughter  of  the  Earl  of 
Scarborough,  and  a  friend  of  Lady  Huntingdon's. 
The  quarrel  began  three  weeks  after  their  marriage, 
when  he  found  that  with  two  of  her  sisters  she  had 
attended  several  Methodist  meetings  and  agreed 
with  what  she  had  heard  preached.  He  proceeded 
to  treat  her  with  the  utmost  harshness.  She  made 
no  complaint  tiU  he  insisted  on  her  leaving  the 
house.  When  she  begged  of  him  not  to  force  her 
to  do  this,  and  told  him  that,  provided  he  would 
allow  her  to  have  the  sanction  of  living  under  his 
roof,  she  would  submit  to  anything,  his  answer 
was  that  if  she  continued  there  he  would  murder 
either  her  or  himself.  Her  brother.  Lord  Scar- 
borough, pled  for  her  in  vain.     Forced  to  go  within 

21 

3— 'H«oi 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

a  few  months  from  the  date  of  her  marriage,  the 
poor  woman,  humiliated  and  broken-hearted,  only 
survived  the  indignity  eight  months. 

Lord  Huntingdon  was  no  Frankland ;  he  lent 
his  wife  kind  and  constant  support,  while  it  is 
clear  he  had  not  her  absolute  conviction  with 
regard  to  the  Methodist  tenets,  though  he  respected 
the  men  who  held  them  for  their  honest  devotion. 
He  received  them  into  his  house,  where  they  were 
from  this  period  frequent  guests,  with  the  utmost 
courtesy  and  friendliness.  In  London  he  accom- 
panied Lady  Huntingdon  in  her  attendance  at 
the  Methodist  meeting-house  in  Fetter  Lane. 

When  two  of  his  sisters.  Lady  Margaret  and 
Lady  Catherine,  who  were  old  enough  to  judge 
for  themselves,  married  two  English  clergymen 
strongly  imbued  with  Methodist  opinions,  Mr. 
Ingham,  of  Queen's  College,  one  of  the  old  Oxford 
set,  the  founder  of  Methodism  in  Yorkshire,  and 
Mr.  Wheeler,  not  only  did  my  lord  make  no  ob- 
jection, but  Lady  Margaret  at  least  was  married 
from  her  brother's  house  in  town,  and  Lord  and 
Lady  Huntingdon  soon  afterwards  visited  her  and 
her  parson  in  Yorkshire. 

At  the  same  time,  when  Lady  Huntingdon  asked 
her  husband's  advice  while  she  was  still  undecided 
in  the  adoption  of  all  the  Methodist  doctrines,  he 
counselled  her  to  consult  his  old  tutor  Benson,  the 

22 


BISHOP   BENSON 

good  Bishop  of  Gloucester,  who  had  ordained  the 
great  Methodist  leader,  George  Whitefield,  when 
Whitefield  was  only  twenty-one  years  of  age, 
and  had  assisted  the  lad  with  money  and  with 
sympathy. 

But  that  was  not  to  say  that  the  excellent  Bishop 
was  not  considerably  scandalised  by  the  young 
preacher's  subsequent  doings,  by  his  disregard 
for  authority,  and  by  the  zest  with  which,  Uke  a 
young  war  horse,  he  snuffed  the  battle  from  afar 
and  flung  himself  into  the  thick  of  it,  finally  by 
the  lack  of  discretion  and  moderation,  in  accord- 
ance with  which  he  neither  spared  himself  nor  his 
multitude  of  disciples.  He  never  turned  aside  to 
"  rest  awhile,"  but  worked  himself  and  them  into 
ecstasies  of  devotion,  till  he  was  tempted  to  believe 
that  he  and  they  had  special  revelations.  When 
sitting  up  all  night  in  high  conference,  he  and  they 
beheld  the  glory  of  God  shining  round  about 
them. 

For  women  of  Lady  Huntingdon's  fine  nature, 
as  for  all  the  noblest  and  best  of  women,  self-denial 
has  a  charm,  and  the  danger  of  martyrdom,  in 
contrast  to  their  own  soft  interests  and  delicate, 
dainty  practices,  presents  a  powerful  fascination. 

The  Countess's  own  fife  was  singularly  safe, 
worthy  of  all  respect,  touched  with  the  highest 
happiness  that  mortals  can  enjoy  on  earth.     But 

23 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

she  knew  well  that  many  lives,  the  mass  of  those 
around  her,  differed  greatly  from  hers  and  her 
Earl's.  She  was  acquainted  with  evil  passions  in 
high  places,  with  the  lust,  the  greed,  the  violence 
with  which  the  England  of  her  day  was  groaning, 
so  that  the  rallying  cry  of  the  Methodists,  "  Flee 
from  the  wrath  to  come,"  seemed  only  too  well 
founded. 

Such  wickedness  permeated  the  classes — from 
Court  circles  to  those  miners  of  Kingswood — not  so 
far  beyond  her  ken,  wild,  half-naked  savages  and 
serfs,  toiling  in  darkness,  set  apart,  as  it  were,  for 
works  of  darkness,  for  whom  no  man  or  woman 
had  cared  till,  as  she  had  heard,  George  Whitefield 
preached  to  them  from  Kingswood  Hill — the  first 
memorable  field  service  held  by  a  Methodist 
clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England. 

Did  she  not  owe  something — her  time,  her  abili- 
ties, her  influence  as  a  lady  of  quality,  to  such 
miserable  people  in  gratitude  for  her  privileges 
and  blessings  ? 

So  she  urged,  when  Bishop  Benson  attempted  to 
convince  her  of  the  unnecessary  strictness  of  her 
sentiments  and  conduct.  What  were  any  small 
breaches  of  conventionality  ?  What  were  even 
transports  of  enthusiasm,  when  weighed  in  the 
balance  with  the  saving  of  souls  ? 
-   If  God  Almighty  came  near  to  Abraham  and 

24 


INTERVIEW   WITH   THE   BISHOP 

Moses,  why  should  He  not  come  near  to  His 
servants  in  these  latter  days  ? 

Why  should  not  the  light  which  blazed  on  Sinai, 
shone  on  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration,  and  fell 
with  such  dazzling  effect  upon  Saul  on  his  way  to 
Damascus,  that  it  Winded  him  for  the  time — why 
should  it  not  be  vouchsafed,  by  Him  who  is  the 
same  yesterday,  to-day  and  for  ever,  to  the  men 
they  knew  ?  Why  should  He  not  manifest  Himself 
in  like  manner  to  His  faithful  servants  who  were 
giving  up  their  all  and  risking  their  very  lives  as  His 
Christ  had  done  before  them  ?  Had  my  Lord 
Bishop  not  heard  of  the  like  white  light — whiter 
than  snow  and  more  radiant  than  the  sun — which 
had  appalled  and  awakened  Colonel  Gardiner  ? 
The  story  was  had  from  one  who  had  it  direct  from 
Lady  Frances  Gardiner. 

Was  this  the  time — when  the  torch  of  the 
Reformation  was  fast  being  extinguished,  and  the 
nation — the  people — were  as  if  drugged,  heavy, 
blind,  and  torpid,  on  the  brink  of  perdition — to 
stand  out  upon  trifles,  to  hold  back  because 
everything  could  not  be  done  after  formal 
precedents  ? 

Did  not  David  and  his  men  eat  of  the  conse- 
crated shewbread,  and  the  Lord's  disciples  pluck 
the  ears  of  corn  and  swallow  the  grains,  which  the 
Jews'  law  forbade  them  ?     Was  it  not  the  Pharisees 

2S 


.^ 


THE    COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

who  cried  out  when  a  poor  sick  man  or  woman  was 
healed  on  the  Sabbath  day  ? 

Bishop  Benson,  who  had  come  to  Donnington 
Park  to  confute  the  errors  which  Lady  Huntingdon 
was  beheved  to  be  acquiring  from  the  Methodists, 
found  his  temper  ruffled  by  her  ladyship's  elo- 
quence, and  took  his  departure  openly  lamenting 
that  he  had  ever  laid  hands  on  George  Whitefield, 
to  whom  he  attributed  the  change  wrought  on 
her. 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  Countess,  "  mark  my  words ; 
when  you  are  on  your  dying  bed  that  will  be  one 
of  the  few  ordinations  which  you  will  reflect  upon 
with  complacence." 

Possibly  when  the  time  came  Bishop  Benson 
reflected  that  none  of  all  the  other  candidates  he 
had  ordained  had  brought  such  sheaves  of  souls 
into  the  heavenly  gcirner. 

Lady  Huntingdon  might  approve  of  liberty,  but 
it  was  in  her  character  to  detest  hcense,  yet  a 
conspicuous  offender  on  the  very  points  to  which 
the  Bishop  of  Gloucester  was  most  opposed  was 
the  man  to  whom  Lady  Huntingdon  and  many 
like  her  were  most  attracted.  This  was  the  golden- 
mouthed  young  Whitefield,  the  tall,  slight  sHp  of 
a  lad,  Uttle  over  twenty,  with  his  fair  face  and 
dehcate  features,  his  wonderful  blue  eyes  scarcely 
marred  by  the  cast  in  one  of  them,  which  won  for 

26 


\Phutu  in  Liiuiy  ll\ilktr 

GEORGE    WHITEFIELD 
ft  out  the  Satioiial  Pvrlrail  Gallery 


GEORGE  WHITEFIELD 

him  from  his  enemies  and  traducers  the  mocking 
title  of  Doctor  Squint um. 

It  appeared  Httle  short  of  marvellous  that  at 
no  distant  date  Whitefield  had  worn  the  blue  apron 
of  a  "  drawer  "  or  pot-boy,  and  had  served  with 
ale  his  mother's  customers  at  the  Bell  Inn  in 
Worcester.  It  was  a  marvel  of  which  he  was  in 
no  way  ashamed,  any  more  than  of  having  been  a 
"  servitor "  at  Pembroke  College,  Oxford,  in 
succession  to  Doctor  Johnson.  Whitefield  wrote 
short  notices  of  his  early  life  and  experience,  and 
caused  them  to  be  printed  and  circulated  among 
his  followers,  that  they  might  bless  God  on  his 
account  and  take  courage  on  their  own. 

The  contrast  between  the  Drawer  and  the 
Preacher  was  so  amazing  that  in  place  of  injuring 
his  popularity  in  aristocratic  quarters,  it  simply 
increased  the  sensation  which  made  it  the  fashion 
for  fine  ladies  to  go  and  hear  the  eloquent  Methodist 
address  an  overflowing  audience,  just  as  they 
flocked  to  the  opera  to  listen  to  a  new  singer,  or 
to  the  theatre  to  hail  a  fresh  player.  It  was  still 
more  like  the  ardour  with  which  they  crowded  the 
court  in  which  a  notorious  criminal  was  to  be  tried, 
and  hke  the  assiduity  displayed  by  the  fine 
gentlemen  of  their  set  in  copying  the  example  of 
exquisite  George  Selwyn  in  waiting  upon  public 
hangings. 

27 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

But  it  was  from  no  determination  to  be  in  the 
fashion,  no  craving  for  sensationalism,  that  Lady 
Huntingdon  was  constrained  to  admire  and 
encourage  her  chaplain,  Mr.  Romaine's  friend, 
Whitefield,  and  to  appoint  him  in  turn  her  chap- 
lain in  spite  of  what  were  accounted  his  vagaries. 

The  Methodists  were  still  under  the  ban  of  the 
authorities,  civil  and  ecclesiastical.  A  great  pro- 
portion of  the  churches  continued  closed  against 
them.  Such  of  the  Bishops  as  had  a  leaning 
towards  the  new  doctrines  supported  their  advo- 
cates only  lukewarmly,  being  damped  and  dis- 
heartened by  what  was  reported  of  them — even  by 
some  of  the  salt  of  the  earth  on  the  other  side  of  the 
question,  and  by  what  was  declared  to  be  the 
tendency  of  the  supporters  of  the  new  creed  to 
fanaticism  and  extravagance. 

The  Methodist  leaders  were  driven  more  than 
ever  to  the  highways  and  hedges  ;  the  men  had 
to  conduct  the  sacred  ordinances  of  their  religion 
in  private  houses  and  to  deliver  their  sermons  at 
market-places  and  in  the  open  fields  under  the 
canopy  of  heaven.  John  Wesley  preached  standing 
on  his  father's  gravestone  in  the  churchyard  of 
Epworth,  while  the  church,  in  which  his  father  had 
spoken  long  and  faithfully,  was  shut  against  the 
son. 

This  freedom  to  which  the  men  were  compelled 

28 


THE   METHODISTS 

was  in  itself  an  offence,  bringing  in  its  exercise 
conflict  with  the  unrepealed  Parliamentary  Act 
against  conventicles.  Huge  crowds  were  brought 
together  by  these  unusual  proceedings.  People 
came  either  to  sympathise  with  the  speakers  or  in 
violent  antipathy  to  them.  The  result  was  wild 
riots,  for  which  the  Methodists  got  the  blame, 
though  they  were  the  chief  sufferers.  They  were 
hooted  and  stoned,  thrown  into  ponds  and  pits, 
and  had  to  resist  even  to  blood. 

The  hostile  Bishops  issued  letters  against  the 
Reformers,  warned  the  clergy  of  each  diocese  to 
have  nothing  to  do  with  these  disturbers  of  the 
public  peace,  these  subverters  of  reverence, 
decency  and  order.  There  were  even  those  among 
the  vicars  and  curates  who  openly  egged  on  their 
parishioners  to  acts  of  insolence  and  persecution. 

Hannah  More,  one  of  the  chief  exponents  of  the 
Clapham  sect,  recorded  with  satisfaction  that  she 
had  never  been  present  at  a  conventicle  or  entered 
one  of  the  "  tabernacles  "  like  that  at  Moorfields 
where  the  Methodists  conducted  their  services. 

Notwithstanding  Lady  Huntingdon's  attach- 
ment to  the  Church  of  England,  she  made  common 
cause  from  the  time  her  religious  convictions 
became  intensified,  with  the  Nonconformists,  who 
were  on  friendly  terms  with  the  clergy,  holding 
the  views  of  the  Methodists  as  of  men  who  loved 

29 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  sincerity.  Among  the 
dissenters  with  whom  she  corresponded  freely  were 
Isaac  Watts  and  Phihp  Doddridge.  These  men 
esteemed  the  Wesleys,  Whitefield,  etc.,  and  occa- 
sionally exchanged  pulpits  with  them,  yet  they  too 
were  a  little  doubtful  of  the  Methodists'  opinions 
and  behaviour,  and  were  somewhat  chary  of  hold- 
ing ministerial  communion  with  the  party,  which, 
like  that  of  the  early  Christians,  "  was  everywhere 
spoken  against." 

Lady  Huntingdon  stood  firm.  She  judged  for 
herself  and  arrived  at  her  own  conclusion,  while 
adhering  to  the  last  to  the  Church  of  England,  but 
when  adherence  was  impossible,  consenting  to 
found  a  new  church.  She  saw  the  advisability  of 
the  church's  expansion.  She  hailed  the  advent  of 
lay  workers  within  its  bounds,  the  very  measure 
which  so  many  of  its  most  influential  members 
regarded  as  well  enough  for  dissenters,  but  beneath 
the  dignity  of,  and  prejudicial  to,  the  orthodoxy 
of  the  Church  of  England. 

Some  time  before  John  Wesley  could  bring  his 
mind  to  it.  Lady  Huntingdon  wrote  her  approval 
of  the  step  and  mentioned  the  profit  she  had 
derived  not  only  from  the  laymen's  prayers,  but 
from  their  preaching  also. 

Countess  Selina  had  always  sought  earnestly  to 
relieve  and  instruct  the  poor  and  ignorant.     Now 

30 


LADY   HUNTINGDON'S   CHARITY 

her  kitchen  was  open  to  them  on  every  lawful  day 
so  that  they  might  come  there  for  help  and  advice. 
She  visited  the  sick  in  their  own  homes  and  read 
and  prayed  with  them,  nay,  in  that  awful  necessity 
of  fleeing  from  the  wrath  to  come  which  was 
always  present  with  her,  she  addressed  the  work- 
people in  her  service,  and  urged  upon  them  to 
repent  and  to  be  renewed  in  spirit. 

She  began  to  interest  herself  greatly  in  the 
education  of  the  children  on  Lord  Huntingdon's 
estates,  and  in  all  likelihood  she  added  to  the 
unwearied  soHcitations  with  which  she  besought 
her  friends  and  acquaintances  to  try  the  effects  of 
Methodist  preaching  by  accompan3dng  her  to  hear 
one  or  other  of  her  favourite  preachers.  She  laid 
the  foundation  of  those  famous  Sunday  evening 
gatherings  in  her  house  in  town,  where  aristocratic 
congregations  met  to  listen  to  Whitefield  or  to  one 
of  the  Wesleys,  to  Romaine,  or  to  Venn. 

She  seems  to  have  felt  herself  especially  account- 
able for  her  own  class.  This  pecuharity  is  visible 
all  through  her  remarkable  career,  and  is  in  striking 
contrast  to  the  modern  choice  of  the  poor  of  the 
slums  as  the  proper  recipients — not  to  say  of 
philanthropic  charity — but  of  reUgious  missions, 
and  of  private  and  personal  influence  and  teaching. 

Another  motive  was  present  and  potent  with 
her  as  with  the  clergy  of  her  persuasion  in  their 

31 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

day.  The  Quality  were  then  a  force  in  the  land. 
Whitefield  after  addressing  them  writes  of  having 
appealed  to  the  "  great  and  mighty."  The  same 
impression  was  felt  by  the  Reformers  in  general 
and  by  Lady  Huntingdon  in  particular.  The 
terms  in  which  the  Methodist  preachers  dealt  with 
the  nobility  in  their  congregations  have  ceased  to 
prevail.  In  the  innumerable  letters  from  White- 
field  and  others,  which  still  exist,  the  tone,  while 
faithful  and  stopping  short  of  sycophancy,  is  not 
only  respectful,  it  is  reverent.  The  "  Honoured 
Sir  or  Honoured  Madam  "  with  which  each  epistle 
begins  supplies  the  key  to  the  style  of  the  contents. 
The  conviction  that  to  persuade  and  change  any 
of  these  important  personages  would  be  to  engage 
a  deep  and  far-reaching  influence  on  the  side  of 
Christianity  was  very  generally  entertained. 

The  Countess  was  actuated  by  both  these 
motives — sympathy  with  and  responsibility  for 
her  class,  and  her  rooted  conviction  that  if  they 
would  but  be  willing  to  exert  their  illustrious 
examples,  with  God's  blessing  upon  them,  they 
would  be  shining  lights  set  on  high  places  which 
would  flood  the  country  and  give  new  hope,  for 
the  religion  of  England. 


32 


CHAPTER   III 

Days  of  Trial — The  Family  as  Trial  found  them — Francis  Lord 
Hastings — Lady  Elizabeth  Hastings — The  two  Boy  Brothers — 
The  Children  in  the  Nursery — The  Visitation  of  Smallpox — Lord 
Huntingdon's  Dream  and  its  Fulfilment — A  Widow  Indeed — Wealth 
and  Independence — A  Missionary  Tour  in  Wales — A  Grande  Dame's 
Duty  to  her  Children — The  Auspices  under  which  Francis  Earl  of 
Huntingdon  made  the  Grand  Tour — The  Honours  heaped  upon 
him — Lady  Elizabeth  Hastings'  Appointment  at  Court — Her 
Marriage  to  Lord  Rawdon,  afterwards  Earl  Moira — A  Different 
Sphere — The  Engraving  known  as  the  "Beatific  Print" — Lady 
Huntingdon's  Precarious  Health  forming  no  obstacle  to  her  efforts. 

The  impetus  given  to  Lady  Huntingdon's  convic- 
tions, which  sent  her  finally  across  the  barrier 
which  divided  her  from  public  life,  never  to  retrace 
her  steps,  did  not  originate  with  herself,  it  was 
none  of  her  seeking.  How  could  it  be  ?  It  was 
a  summons  to  leave  behind  her  the  peace  and 
gladness  of  her  matronhood  and  motherhood,  in 
order  to  tread  thenceforth  the  bleak,  unshaded, 
uphill  road,  thorn-strewn,  watered  with  tears, 
alone  in  the  midst  of  a  baffling  crowd,  the  road 
which  no  man,  and  still  less  no  woman,  could  climb 
steadfastly,  unless  upheld  by  more  than  human 
strength. 

The  stately  and  beautiful  home  which  struck 
spectators  as  so  safe  and  enduring  was  entered 
again  and  again  by  one  to  whom  none  can  deny 
himself,  was  robbed  first  of  its  sweetness,  next  of 
its  glory,  and  then  was  speedily  left  behind. 

33 


THE   COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

Lady  Huntingdon  had  borne  seven  children, 
one  of  whom — a  baby,  Lady  Selina — died  in 
infancy.  In  addition  to  his  own  family,  Lord 
Huntingdon  had  caused  to  be  educated  along  with 
his  eldest  son,  Theophilus  and  George  Hastings, 
the  sons  of  his  younger  brother,  who  had  been 
known  in  his  youth  by  what  was,  in  his  case,  the 
courtesy  title  of  Lord  Hastings. 

Lord  and  Lady  Huntingdon's  son  and  heir, 
Francis  Lord  Hastings,  was  considered  an  "  elegant 
youth  "  of  much  promise.  He  outstripped  his 
companions  in  their  studies,  and  drew  from  the 
poet  Akenside — a  medical  man  in  the  neighbour- 
hood who  might  be  regarded  as  a  retainer  of  the 
family — a  set  of  verses  in  the  lad's  honour  pre- 
dicting his  future  greatness.  The  elder  daughter. 
Lady  Elizabeth,  has  been  described  as  a  bright, 
far  forward  girl.  Then  came  two  young  boys  of 
thirteen  and  eleven  years,  the  Honourable  George 
and  the  Honourable  Ferdinando,  no  doubt  trials 
to  their  tutors  striving  to  keep  them  in  order  and 
idols  of  old  keepers  and  grooms.  The  family  was 
wound  up  by  two  still  small  children,  a  second 
sweet  little  Lady  Selina,  and  a  bold  bantling  of  an 
Honourable  Henry. 

There  came  an  evening  when  the  pair  of  half- 
grown  boys  crept  into  the  drawing-room,  went 
stumbUng  to  their  mother's  side,  and  leant  against 

34 


A   GREAT   BEREAVEMENT 

her,  muttering  unwonted  complaints  of  their  tired 
bones  and  aching  heads.  She  looked  into  their 
flushed  faces  and  heavy  eyes  and  pronounced  with 
a  sinking  heart  that  they  must  have  a  Dover's 
sweating  powder  that  night  and  be  blooded  next 
morning,  while  she  strove  to  tell  herself  that 
nothing  more  would  be  needed. 

When  the  morning  came  there  was  hot  haste 
and  the  speeding  away  of  all  who  had  any  title  as 
outsiders,  for  it  was  known  beyond  question  that 
the  scourge  of  the  century  was  there — the  boys 
had  been  stricken  with  smallpox.  In  a  short  time 
the  most  dreaded  of  malignant  diseases  had  done 
its  work — George  and  Ferdinando  Hastings,  dis- 
figured, almost  beyond  recognition  by  the  mother 
who  bore  them,  lay  in  their  coffins. 

It  was  a  crushing  bereavement,  but  so  far  as  the 
Countess  was  concerned  there  still  remained  an 
earthly  as  well  as  a  heavenly  consoler,  who  stilled 
the  ache  of  his  own  heart  and  hid  how  he  missed 
the  light  steps  and  merry  voices  of  his  boys  in  the 
stillness  of  the  great  house,  in  order  to  remind 
her  that  they  were  the  children  of  many  prayers, 
of  the  covenant  which  had  been  made  for  them 
with  the  God  who  had  taken  them  in  love,  surely 
not  in  anger,  from  evil  days  to  come.  Her  husband 
was  there  to  bid  her  look  around  her  and  count  the 
mercies  spared  to  her.     And  for  his  sake  and  in 

35 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

loyalty  to  the  supreme  Governor  of  all,  she  was 
willing  to  meet  Lord  Huntingdon  on  his  own 
unselfish  ground.  She  was  ready  to  comply  with 
his  entreaties  and  resolve  that  her  heart  should  not 
break,  nor  be  divided  between  her  two  dead  and 
gone  sons. 

But  the  sky  still  held  another  and  more  deadly 
bolt  which,  with  the  suddenness  of  lightning, 
descended  before  two  more  years  had  gone  on 
the  woman  once  so  highly  favoured,  a  heathen 
Greek  might  have  said  of  her,  with  bent  head 
and  bated  breath,  that  the  gods  would  take  their 
revenge  for  the  undue  portion  of  prosperity  and 
happiness  which  a  mere  mortal  possessed. 

Lord  Huntingdon  was  still  in  his  fiftieth  year, 
his  Countess  in  her  thirty-ninth  year.  They  were 
not  beyond  the  early  autumn  of  their  days.  They 
might  with  reason  have  reckoned  on  many  more 
long,  happy  years  to  be  spent  together  in  faithful 
discharge  of  their  duties,  and  in  growing  devotion 
_and  charity.  But  their  Master  had  not  so  willed 
it.  One  morning  my  lord — shrinking  a  little  from 
repeating  the  foolish  tale  which  it  would  hurt  his 
wife  to  hear,  and  yet  somehow  impelled  to  warn  her 
of  what  might  be  coming  upon  her — even  while  he 
laughed  at  his  own  superstition,  reminded  the 
Countess  that  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  dreaming, 
indeed,  he  believed  he  had  never  dreamt  in  his  life 

36 


LORD   HUNTINGDON   DIES 

before,  which  might  account  for  his  nerves  being 
so  struck  by  the  vision  which  had  confronted  him. 
He  had  seen  in  his  sleep  a  skeleton  creep  up  and 
settle  down  between  her  and  him. 

Lady  Huntingdon  listened — one  may  be  sure 
with  widening  eyes  and  whitening  cheeks — and 
then  joined  him  in  laughing  more  loudly  than  was 
her  habit  at  the  folly  of  minding  a  dream. 

In  the  course  of  the  month  he  had  the  stroke  of 
apoplexy  from  which  he  never  rallied.  He  died  in 
November,  1746. 

It  is  vain  to  speak  of  what  passes  the  compre- 
hension of  so  many,  the  desolation  which  only  the 
love  of  her  God  and  her  kind  could  change  so  that 
the  desert  of  her  life  should  bud  and  blossom 
again  with  the  flowers  and  fruit  of  Paradise. 

On  the  monument  erected  to  Lord  Huntingdon 
and  his  family,  to  which  Lord  Bolingbroke  con- 
tributed the  epitaph,  Lady  Huntingdon  had  her 
bust  placed  as  a  token  of  that  union  of  the  wedded 
couple  which  Death  could  not  sever  entirely,  while 
she  survived  her  husband  for  nearly  half-a-century . 

With  entire  trust  in  his  Countess,  Lord  Hunting- 
don left  to  her,  without  conditions,  the  bulk  of  his 
large  fortune  and  the  control  of  the  family  affairs. 
As  a  matter  of  course,  his  elder  son  succeeded  to 
the  Earldom  of  Huntingdon  and  the  Barony  of 
Hastings  and  the  estates  which  went  with  the  title. 

37 

4— (2300) 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

Quite  independent  and  perfectly  free  to  adopt 
the  course  on  which  she  could  trust  that  her 
husband  would  look  down,  if  he  might — 

"  With  larger,  other  eyes  than  ours," 

two  years  after  her  husband's  death  Lady  Hunting- 
don took  a  more  pronounced  step  than  she  had 
hitherto  attempted,  she  went  on  what  maybe  called 
a  crusade  or  missionary  tour  in  Wales.  She  was 
accompanied  by  her  elder  daughter  at  the  age  of 
seventeen  and  her  little  girl  just  turned  ten. 
There  was  a  bevy  of  clergymen  and  a  cavalcade 
of  carriages  and  horses ;  with  these  she  accom- 
plished by  her  clergymen  in  attendance,  fifteen 
days'  preaching  through  the  Principality.  The 
picturesque  train  wended  their  way,  the  members 
of  her  escort  preaching  as  often  as  five  times  a  day 
in  the  larger  towns,  and  in  the  remote  villages. 

It  is  said  that  the  leader  of  this  party  was  greatly 
struck  by  what  she  heard  then  for  the  first  time, 
the  groans  and  sobs  of  an  emotional,  unconventional 
congregation. 

All  the  while  the  Countess  was  strictly  mindful 
of  what  was  due,  in  a  worldly  sense,  to  the  late 
Earl's  children  and  her  own,  and  of  what  she  felt 
herself  bound  to  procure  for  them.  Her  loyalty 
to  her  class  and  her  fidelity  to  her  friends,  however 
much  they  might  differ  from  her  in  tastes  and 

38 


THE   COUNTESS   IN   SOCIETY 

habits,  even  in  principles  and  creeds,  were  pecu- 
liarly characteristic  of  her.  It  seems  a  testimony 
to  all  that  is  best  in  her  that  while  such  a  man  as 
Horace  Walpole  never  mentioned  Lady  Hunting- 
don's name  without  a  cynical  scoff,  other  men  of 
the  world — to  wit,  Chesterfield  and  Bolingbroke, 
her  own  and  her  husband's  old  friends,  with  women 
of  fashion,  if  not  so  intellectual  as  the  men,  as 
much  opposed  to  whatever  was  beyond  the  mere 
round  of  ambitions  and  pleasures  of  this  earth 
earthy,  continued  to  treat  her  with  the  greatest 
respect  and  regard.  They  sought  her  society  and 
relied  on  her  goodwill,  while  she,  on  her  part,  never 
lost  her  hope  that  they  would  turn  to  better  things, 
and  was  only  concerned,  so  far  as  she  had  to  do 
with  them,  that  they  should  not  miss  the  oppor- 
tunities which  might  be  blessed  at  last.  None 
could  tell  when  the  Spirit  might  not  open  the  eyes 
of  the  blind,  or  waken  the  sleepers,  and  raise  the 
dead  to  newness  of  life. 

As  soon  as  the  new  Lord  Huntingdon  was 
twenty-one  years  his  mother,  to  whom  he  was 
always  politely  attentive  in  his  behaviour  with 
suave  deference,  whether  or  not  any  remnant  of 
genuine  kindness  lingered  behind,  vacated  Don- 
nington  Park  in  order  that  he  might  form  his  own 
establishment  there.  She  agreed  willingly  to  his 
making  the  Grand  Tour,  though  he  made  it  under 

39 


THE  COUNTESS   OF  HUNTINGDON 

the  auspices  of  his  godfather,  Lord  Chesterfield, 
of  whom  Francis  Hastings  appears  a  smaller,  less 
brilliant  reflection. 

Chesterfield  had  been  the  late  Earl's  friend,  and 
he  continued  to  the  last  the  intimate  friend  of  the 
family.  And  was  he  not  the  finest,  best-bred 
nobleman  of  his  day,  \vith  the  most  distinguished 
circle  of  acquaintances  at  home  and  abroad  to 
whom  he  could  introduce  the  young  man  ?  Could 
the  elder  man  not  be  trusted  to  refrain  from  instil- 
hng  his  heartless  sophistries  and  his  confirmed 
unbelief  into  the  son  of  the  friend  who  had  thought 
so  differently  ? 

Even  if  Chesterfield  could  be  guilty  of  taking 
advantage  of  his  position  to  betray  the  confidence 
reposed  in  him  in  relation  to  religion  and  morals, 
should  not  Francis  Hastings'  godly  upbringing 
have  rendered  him  proof  against  insidious  attacks  ? 
He  could  not  be  kept  from  the  knowledge  of  the 
license  and  free  thinking  abounding  in  the  world 
around  him,  else  how  was  he  rightly  and  intelli- 
gently to  stand  up  for  the  truth  and  give  a  reason 
for  the  faith  that  was  in  him  ? 

Whether  Lady  Huntingdon  was  too  careless  or 
too  yielding,  or  whether  she  could  not  help  herself, 
and  the  choice  was  taken  out  of  her  hands,  it  is 
impossible  at  this  distance  of  time  to  tell.  Cer- 
tainly it  was  pla3ang  with  fire,  and  the  result  was 

40 


THE   YOUNG   EARL 

she  was  burned  to  the  bone  and  marrow  in  the 
end. 

On  Lady  Huntingdon's  son's  return  from  abroad 
he  was  found  to  have  the  grace  of  a  "  foreign 
courtier  "  (of  a  petit  maitre  in  fact),  but  though  he 
was  bland  and  plausible,  as  might  have  been 
expected  from  the  adopted  son  of  the  worldling 
of  worldlings,  Chesterfield,  the  young  Earl  lacked 
his  father's  solid  worth  and  virtue  as  he  lacked  the 
elder  man's  wisdom  and  judgment.  The  son 
found  no  fault  with  his  mother's  views  and  actions, 
while  he  was  absolutely  without  sympathy  where 
they  were  concerned. 

But  the  pronounced  infidelity  which  distin- 
guished Francis  Earl  of  Huntingdon  in  later  years, 
with  regard  to  which  Lady  Huntingdon  hoped 
against  hope  that  he  would  live  to  learn  that  the 
finite  cannot  measure  the  infinite,  and  that  religion 
is  not  a  growth  of  the  reason  (though  rightly 
understood  reason  and  religion  cannot  be  in 
opposition),  but  belongs  to  the  conscience  and  the 
heart,  and  to  that  higher  spirit  of  man  which  is  in 
communion  with  the  spirit  of  God  who  made 
him,  was  now  only  nascent. 

The  Earl's  unbehef  and  his  indifference  to  the 
questions  which  were  dear  as  life  itself  to  his 
mother  could  hardly  have  been  in  active  hostility 
as  yet.     It  was  only  a  cloud  hanging  threateningly 

41 


THE   COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

on  the  horizon,  and  it  must  have  been  with  natural 
gratification  that  she  learned  the  honours  heaped 
upon  him  as  a  tribute  to  his  father's  memory  and 
his  own  scholarly  attainments.  He  was  named 
Master  of  the  Horse  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  a 
member  of  the  Privy  Council.  He  carried  the 
Sword  of  State  at  the  Coronation  of  George  HI  as 
his  father  had  carried  it  at  the  Coronation  of 
George  IL  He  was  appointed  Lord- Lieutenant  of 
one  of  the  Yorkshire  Ridings  and  of  the  city  of 
York.  He  held  also  the  office  of  Groom  of  the 
Stole  in  the  Royal  Household. 

Lady  Elizabeth  Hastings,  the  Countess's  elder 
daughter,  resembled  her  mother  in  so  far  that  she 
was  not  beautiful,  but  was  full  of  spirit  and 
ability.  At  eighteen  the  Countess  sought  and 
found  for  her  a  place  at  Court  to  act  as  Lady  of  the 
Bedchamber,  while  yet  a  girl  herself,  to  two  of  the 
younger  princesses,  girls  in  their  early  teens, 
daughters  of  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales 
and  sisters  of  George  HL 

No  doubt  times  and  manners  were  improving. 
The  household  of  the  widowed  Princess  of  Wales 
was  decidedly  more  decorous  and  better  cared  for 
than  the  Countess  had  known  the  Court  of  George  H 
and  Queen  Caronne  to  be,  not  to  say  than  the  still 
more  unseemly  and  disorderly  Court  of  George  I, 
presided    over   by   the   Duchess   of   Kendal  and 

42 


HORACE   VVALPOLE'S   PHRASE 

her  rival,  at  which  Lady  Fanny  Shirley  had 
figured. 

Still  a  Court  was  a  highly  charged  atmosphere 
beset  with  snares  and  pitfalls  for  a  lively  girl  of 
eighteen.  But  Lady  Elizabeth's  place  was  there 
as  a  young  lady  of  quality,  and  she  was  bound  to 
fill  it,  to  bear  its  trials  and  resist  its  temptations. 
After  all  she  did  not  hold  the  post  long ;  it  was 
not  many  months  before  she  resigned  it  and  retired 
into  private  life.  In  the  absence  of  any  other 
reason  for  her  withdrawal  which  has  survived, 
one  is  thrown  out  on  the  light  assertion  of 
Horace  Walpole,  "  The  Queen  of  the  Methodists 
got  her  daughter  named  for  Lady  of  the  Bed- 
chamber to  the  Princesses,  but  it  is  all  off  again 
as  she  will  not  let  her  play  cards  on  Sundays." 

There  may  be  a  grain  of  truth  in  the  careless 
statement,  for,  strong  as  was  Lady  Huntingdon's 
sense  of  the  rights  which  belonged  to  her  daughter's 
station  in  life  and  of  the  corresponding  duties 
which  devolved  upon  her,  the  mother  may  have 
regarded  the  advantage  of  a  place  at  Court 
outweighed  and  its  obUgations  annulled  by 
arrangements  which  she  could  not  consider  con- 
sistent with  a  young  Christian  gentlewoman's  walk 
and  conversation. 

A  year  after  Lady  Elizabeth's  retirement  the 
calamitous  marriage  of  the  elder  of  her  charge,  a 

43 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

thoughtless  girl  of  sixteen,  to  the  half-witted  King 
of  Denmark,  was  duly  celebrated  at  St.  James's 
Palace,  the  Princess's  brother,  the  Duke  of  York, 
acting  as  proxy  for  the  King. 

When  Lady  Elizabeth  was  twenty-one  years  of 
age,  six  or  seven  years  after  her  father's  death, 
about  1752,  she  married  Lord  Rawdon,  afterwards 
created  Earl  Moira.  He  was  a  full  cousin  of  her 
mother's  and  her  contemporary,  being  a  man  of 
forty-five  years  of  age.  We  are  told  that  with  this 
marriage  Lady  Huntingdon  "was  extremely  happy 
and  contented,"  so  that  we  are  free  to  give  his 
Lordship  credit  for  various  merits,  including  the 
sedateness  to  be  expected  from  his  time  of  life. 

From  the  date  of  her  marriage  the  daughter  had 
an  orbit  of  her  own,  the  ambitious  orbit  of  a  social 
leader.  She  passed  out  of  her  mother's  sphere ; 
she,  too,  does  not  seem  to  have  had  much  sym- 
pathy with  her  mother,  though  Lady  Moira  was 
accustomed  to  treat  Lady  Huntingdon  with  the 
utmost  respect,  very  much  as  if  the  Countess  were 
a  great  personage  who  was  a  law  unto  herself, 
whose  life  and  example  stood  apart  from  those  of 
ordinary  individuals. 

Lady  Moira  when  an  old  woman  is  said  to  have 
spoken  with  interest  of  the  engraving  of  Lady 
Huntingdon  entitled  by  Horace  Walpole  "  The 
beatific  print."     It  represented  her  with  her  foot 

44 


THE   COUNTESS   AND   HER   MISSION 

on  her  coronet.  What  did  it  mean  ?  That  she 
had  done  with  such  vain  baubles  ?  or  was  it  not 
rather  that  giving  them  their  proper  value,  as 
privileges  and  distinctions  of  her  class,  she  yet 
held  them  as  utterly  worthless  in  comparison  with 
a  higher  order  of  nobility. 

With  the  elder  members  of  the  family  thus 
launched  on  the  world,  and  taking  their  course 
independent  of  her,  and  the  younger  members  still 
in  the  schoolroom,  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon 
saw  herself  at  hberty  to  carry  out  her  mission. 
The  precariousness  of  her  health  did  not  interfere 
with  the  obligations  she  had  taken  upon  herself. 
She  was  Uable  in  her  prime  and  in  the  latter  part 
of  her  life  to  severe  attacks  of  illness,  from  which 
her  recovery  was  often  doubtful.  She  was  accus- 
tomed to  speak  of  them  as  very  much  a  matter 
of  course,  and  a  chastisement  which  was  ap- 
pointed for  her.  On  one  occasion  she  quoted 
Luther's  testimony  as  applicable  to  herself,  that 
"  he  was  never  employed  about  any  fresh  work 
but  he  was  either  visited  with  a  fit  of  sickness,  or 
violent  temptation." 


45 


CHAPTER   IV 

An  English  Deborah — Her  Rebuffs  from  High  Quarters — Letter  of 
the  Duchess  of  Buckingham — Lady  Huntingdon's  Sunday  Evenings 
in  Town — The  Company  Assembled — No  Irreconcilables — Lords 
Bolingbroke  and  Chesterfield — No  Castaways — Lady  Suffolk  and 
Lady  Betty  Germayne — Lady  Suffolk  takes  Guilt  to  herself — 
The  Necessity  for  the  Establishment  of  Lady  Huntingdon's  Con- 
nexion— Her  many  Churches  and  Chapels  in  London  and  through- 
out the  Country — John  Wesley's  Objections  with  the  Difficulty  of 
Two  Suns  Shining  in  One  Sky — Founding  the  College  at  Trevecca 
with  Fletcher  of  Madeley  as  its  Superintendent — Countess  Selina's 
Attendance  at  its  Opening  on  her  Fiftieth  Birthday,  and  at  many 
of  its  Anniversaries — The  Opposition  of  Lady  Huntingdon's  Son  to 
the  Trevecca  Students — The  Different  Action  on  the  Part  of  her 
Daughter,  Lady  Moira — The  Fate  of  Trevecca — Lady  Hunting- 
don's Goodwill  to  the  Settlers  and  Slaves  of  Georgia  and  the 
Red   Indians  in  the  Backwoods  of  America. 

The  rebuffs,  the  unreasonable  resentment,  the 
lack  of  gratitude,  which  were  frequently  Lady 
Huntingdon's  portion  in  return  for  her  efforts  to 
induce  her  friends  and  acquaintances  to  listen  to 
what  she  held  was  Divine  Truth,  might  have 
wearied  and  overcome  a  less  dauntless  and  large- 
hearted  woman,  but  here  was  one  who  could  not 
be  humiliated  in  a  good  cause,  and  did  not  count 
on  gratitude  from  those  she  sought  to  benefit. 

A  letter  from  the  Duchess  of  Buckingham,  the 
illegitimate  daughter  of  James  H,  married  first  to 
the  Earl  of  Anglesey,  from  whom  she  was  divorced, 
and  secondly  to  Sheffield  Duke  of  Buckingham, 
though  very  civil  to  the  Countess  herself,  is  an 
instance  of  the  light  in  which  her  preachers  and 

46 


A  SHOCKED   DUCHESS 

their  creed  were  viewed  by  many  of  those  whom 
she  tried  to  bring  under  their  influence. 

"  I  thank  your  Ladyship  for  the  information 
concerning  the  Methodist  preaching  ;  these  doc- 
trines are  most  repulsive  and  strongly  tinctured 
with  impertinence  and  disrespect  towards  their 
superiors  in  perpetually  endeavouring  to  level  all 
ranks  and  do  away  with  all  distinction,  as  it  is 
monstrous  to  be  told  that  you  have  a  heart  as 
sinful  as  the  common  wretches  that  crawl  on  the 
earth.  This  is  highly  offensive  and  insulting,  and 
I  cannot  but  wonder  that  your  Ladyship  should 
relish  any  sentiments  so  much  at  variance  with 
high  rank  and  good  breeding. 

**  Your  Ladyship  does  me  infinite  honour  by 
your  obliging  enquiries  after  my  health.  I  shall 
be  most  happy  to  accept  your  kind  offer  of  accom- 
panying me  to  hear  your  favourite  preacher,  and 
shall  await  your  arrival.  The  Duchess  of  Queens- 
berry  insists  on  my  patronising  her  on  the  occasion, 
consequently  she  will  be  an  addition  to  our  party. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  be, 

"  My  dear  Lady  Huntingdon, 
"  Your  Ladyship's  most 

faithful  and  obhged, 

"  C.  Buckingham." 

Lady  Huntingdon's  Sunday  evening  assemblies, 
like  the  Gospel  net,  gathered  in  good  and  bad 
indiscriminately.  They  included  her  circle  and 
far  beyond  her  circle  of  the  fashionable  and 
intellectual,   and  also  the  riotously  vicious  and 

47 


THE   COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

notoriously  unbelieving  sets  which  made  up  the 
exclusive  world  to  which  she  belonged.  The 
attendance  which  curiosity,  the  fashion  of  the  day, 
love  of  novelty  and  of  a  sensation,  together  with 
more  honest  interests  converted  into  a  throng, 
did  not  fail.  It  numbered  many  men  and  women 
who,  for  any  other  cause,  would  have  been  out  of 
her  ken,  or  if  known  to  her  would  have  excited  her 
reprobation. 

But  in  the  double  sense  of  sin  and  salvation, 
there  were  no  irredeemable  castaways  among  the 
great,  any  more  than  among  the  small. 

It  was  as  if  in  that  wonderful  volcanic  period 
of  English  history  the  eternal  truths  of  the  world 
to  come  were  suddenly,  by  an  overthrow  of  all 
conventionalities,  brought  face  to  face  with  the 
lying  vanities  of  the  time  ;  and  men  and  women 
were  suddenly  called  upon  to  choose  between  them. 
The  presiding  genius  of  the  situation  made  all 
welcome.  As  she  listened  with  aU  her  heart  to 
the  eloquent  sermons,  enlightened  lectures,  and 
passionate  appeals  of  her  army  of  peace,  she  could 
not  despair  of  the  conversion  of  her  old  familiar 
friends — Bolingbroke  and  Chesterfield — who  were 
present  on  various  occasions  at  these  meetings  at 
her  house.  Chesterfield  even  went  so  far  as  some- 
times to  attend,  for  the  gratification  of  his  love  of 
oratory,  Whitefield  in  other  quarters. 

48 


A  BOW  AT  A   VENTURE 

Neither  did  Lady  Huntingdon  venture  to 
condemn  offenders  of  her  own  sex  of  less  intellect 
but  with  more  scandalous  reputations.  Might 
not  Lady  Suffolk  and  Lady  Betty  Germayne  be 
brought  to  see  what  had  been  the  error  of  their 
ways  ?  All  were  sinners  in  God's  sight ;  none 
had  a  right  to  judge  his  or  her  neighbour,  far  less 
to  bar  the  bridge  which  spanned  the  gulf  between 
the  saved  and  the  lost. 

Lady  Suffolk's  conduct  after  one  of  Lady 
Huntingdon's  Sunday  evenings  furnishes  an  ex- 
ample of  a  sinner  taking  guilt  to  herself.  It 
exhibited  in  addition  the  chief  actor  in  the  scene 
carried  out  of  herself  by  rage,  for  she  has  been 
generally  represented  as  a  placid  woman  of  an 
even  temper. 

"  Lady  Rockingham  prevailed  on  Lady 
Huntingdon  to  admit  the  beauty  to  hear  her 
chaplain  "  (at  this  time  Whitefield).  "  He,  how- 
ever, knew  nothing  of  her  presence  ;  he  drew  his 
bow  at  a  venture,  but  every  arrow  seemed  aimed 
at  her.  She  just  managed  to  sit  out  the  service 
in  silence,  and  when  Mr.  Whitefield  retired,  she 
flew  into  a  violent  passion,  abused  Lady  Hunting- 
don to  her  face,  and  denounced  the  service  as  a 
deliberate  attack  upon  herself.  In  vain  her  sister- 
in-law,  Lady  Betty  Germayne,  tried  to  appease 
the  beautiful  fury,  or  to  explain  her  mistake.     In 

49 


THE   COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

vain  old  Lady  Ellinor  Bertie  and  the  Duchess 
Dowager  of  Ancaster,  both  relatives,  commanded 
her  silence  ;  she  maintained  that  she  had  been 
insulted.  She  was  compelled,  however,  by  her 
relatives  who  were  present  to  apologise  to  Lady 
Huntingdon  with  a  bad  grace,  and  then  the 
mortified  beauty  left  the  place  to  return  no  more." 

Lady  Huntingdon  was  more  successful  with 
other  ladies  of  rank,  of  whom  she  wrote  cheerfully 
to  Doctor  Doddridge  that  among  their  Christian 
converts  she  trusted  there  would  be  found  of 
"  honourable  women  not  a  few." 

But  the  time  had  come  for  Countess  Selina  to 
do  more  than  to  attend  on  the  sermons  of  the 
Methodist  preachers,  to  reckon  the  preachers 
among  her  best  and  dearest  friends,  to  receive 
them  into  her  house,  and  to  bring  select  crowds 
to  be  edified  by  them.  She  was  now  practically 
independent  and  in  possession  of  a  large  fortune, 
while  the  desire  of  her  heart  was  that  her  English 
people,  notably  her  class  in  society,  should  be 
saved,  when  the  recovery  of  the  other  lapsed  classes 
— by  no  means  neglected  by  her — would  follow. 
Lady  Huntingdon  withstood  the  divisions  and 
controversies  which  were  beginning  to  arise  among 
the  Methodists — sore  trials  to  many  and  sources 
of  bitterness  to  all.  To  sweeten  these  sources 
required  long  years,  and  the  honest  trust  and  regard 

50 


THE   MORAVIANS 

which,  though  they  had  sometimes  been  stretched 
to  the  uttermost,  flowed  again  at  last  in  the  old 
channels. 

Grace  and  works  were  brought  into  conflict  as 
of  old,  John  Wesley,  in  spite  of  his  denial,  was 
accused  of  setting  too  much  store  on  works. 

Whitefield,  the  apostle  of  free  grace,  was 
assailed  as  a  "  predestinarian  "  and  a  Calvinist. 

The  Moravians,  headed  by  Count  Zinzendorf, 
were  supported  by  Whitefield,  Ingham,  and 
Charles  Wesley,  who  were  enchanted  by  the  sect's 
simplicity  and  piety.  These  Moravians  established 
colonies  in  England  and  joined  the  Methodists  to 
a  considerable  extent. 

But  the  Moravian  speculations  and  what  struck 
the  religious  public  as  their  dangerous  lack  of 
standards  and  creeds,  and  their  indifference  to 
orthodoxy,  soon  repelled  the  great  body  of  the 
serious-minded  English,  and  brought  upon  those 
Methodists  who  had  fraternised  with  the  Moravians 
a  similar  charge  of  grave  heresy.  These  accusations 
distracted  and  divided  whole  circuits,  and 
dispersed  entire  congregations  of  the  faithful. 

It  was  high  time  that  greater  order  and  harmony 
should  be  restored.  It  was  clear  to  the  interested 
and  thoughtful  that  field-preaching  could  only  be  a 
temporary  resource.  More  than  that,  it  left  out, 
unless    on    exceptional    occasions,    the    Quality, 

51 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

those  fine  ladies  and  gentlemen  to  whom  Lady 
Huntingdon  by  all  her  antecedents  was  bound, 
on  whose  power,  dignity,  wit,  and  influence,  she 
counted  for  benefits  to  all.  If  the  existing 
churches  were  largely  withheld  from  the  Methodist 
clergymen  of  the  Church  of  England,  substitutes 
must  be  found  for  the  churches,  and  Lady  Hunting- 
don and  her  fortune  were  at  the  service  of  her 
world,  to  take  the  chief  part  in  providing  these 
substitutes. 

Thus  originated  the  "  Connexion  "  with  which 
her  name  is  linked.  She  had  already  promoted 
various  schools  and  one  well-known  orphanage — 
Kingswood.  Later  she  was  to  found  a  college 
for  Methodist  students  at  Trevecca,  near  Talworth, 
in  South  Wales.  Now  she  began  to  build,  repair 
and  maintain,  for  the  most  part  at  her  own 
expense,  many  chapels  in  different  parts  of 
England.  Among  the  most  noted  were  those  at 
York  and  Huddersfield  in  the  north,  in  the  mid- 
lands those  at  Gloucester  and  Worcester,  in  the 
south  at  Lewes  and  Brighton,  in  the  east  at 
Norwich  and  Margate,  and  in  the  west  at 
Swansea. 

Even  a  large  fortune  could  only  stand  such 
drains  with  difficulty,  and  Lady  Huntingdon  dis- 
posed of  part  of  her  jewels  in  order  to  build  the 
chapel  at  Brighton.. 

52 


THE   "CONNEXION" 

The  special  resorts  of  real  or  supposed  invalids 
of  the  upper  classes  and  their  friends  at  Bath, 
Bristol,  Tunbridge  Wells,  and  Cheltenham,  were 
not  forgotten  in  a  provision  for  their  spiritual 
needs. 

In  London  the  chapels  or  tabernacles  with  which 
the  Countess  was  most  concerned,  which  she  helped 
to  sustain,  were  Whitefield's  Tabernacle  at  Moor- 
fields,  the  Tottenham  Court  Chapel,  Long  Acre 
Chapel  (notorious  for  the  street  riots  which 
disturbed  its  services),  and  Spa  Fields  Chapel. 

Lady  Huntingdon  placed  in  charge  of  the 
chapels,  for  which  she  was  the  sole  or  principal 
subscriber,  clergymen  who  were  Calvinistic 
Methodists,  of  whom  Whitefield  was  the  repre- 
sentative. It  is  easy  to  understand  how  the  lofty 
sternness  of  Calvinism  with  its  utter  self-surrender 
appealed  to  such  a  woman,  and  rather  than  abjure 
its  doctrines  she  resigned  herself,  when  only  one 
of  two  courses  was  left  to  her,  to  be  ejected  from 
the  Church  of  England. 

Lady  Huntingdon's  "  Connexion "  as  it  was 
called  numbered  as  many  as  sixty  clergymen  with 
a  host  of  lay  workers.  Some  of  the  clergymen  were 
settled  in  their  spheres  of  work,  but  the  greater 
number,  connected  with  the  larger  towns  and 
chapels,  preached  in  rotation,  having  rounds  or 
circuits,  which  they  followed,  much  in  accordance 

53 

5— (•!••» 


THE  COUNTESS   OF  HUNTINGDON 

with  John  Wesley's  system.  Lady  Huntingdon 
accepted  the  responsibility  of  appointing  and 
placing  the  men  whom  she  chose  at  their  posts,  and 
of  dismissing  or  of  transferring  them  if  they  did 
not  answer  her  expectations,  of  if  she  believed 
they  would  do  better  in  other  quarters. 

These  clergymen  were  sent  out  and  employed 
by  her  when  and  where  she  thought  it  desirable 
on  courses  of  preaching  throughout  England  and 
in  Scotland  and  Ireland. 

As  the  tremendous  burden  of  the  care  of  the  early 
Christian  churches  devolved  upon  St.  Paul,  so  the 
seeing  to  the  welfare,  integrity  and  efficiency  of 
her  "  Connexion  "  rested  on  the  Countess's  bent 
and  bereft  woman's  shoulders.  Her  organising 
power  must  have  been  marvellous  ;  her  fideUty  to 
her  self-imposed  duties  prevailed  to  the  last  stage 
of  mortal  weakness.  She  did  the  work  of  a  bishop, 
and  amidst  all  the  taunts  and  sneers  heaped  upon 
her  for  unwomanly  presumption  and  rank  fanati- 
cism, not  one  accusation  survives  of  caprice, 
injustice,  or  of  weak  incapacity. 

As  a  proof  that  even  among  the  best  and  truest 
of  their  Master's  servants  there  can  with  difficulty 
be  two  leaders  in  the  same  cause,  as  there  cannot 
be  two  suns  in  the  same  sky.  Lady  Huntingdon's 
old  friend,  John  Wesley,  lost  conceit  of  her  at 
this   time,    and    declared    that    she    had    grown 

54 


WESLEY   CRITICISES   HER   LADYSHIP 

arrogant  and  despotic,  that  her  constant  talk  was 
of  "  my  schools,"  "  my  orphanage,"  or,  as  it  might 
be,  "  my  churches."  But  this  was  a  momentary 
outburst  on  the  part  of  a  great  and  good  man, 
who  was  nevertheless  fallible,  and  had  grown 
nettled  and  restive,  unaccustomed  as  he  was  to 
have  his  authority  disputed,  or  to  encounter  a 
rival. 

And  arrogance  and  despotism,  however  much 
they  are  to  be  deprecated,  are  something  widely 
different  from  unfairness,  untrustworthiness,  and 
foUy. 

Neither  is  there  sufficient  evidence  for  this 
accusation  of  arrogance  and  despotism.  Lady 
Huntingdon's  letters,  written  in  the  Scriptural 
language  and  stereotyped  phraseology  of  the 
religious  world  of  her  day,  which  lend  a  certain  air 
of  artificiality  to  what  was  written  in  all  earnest- 
ness and  good  faith,  while  they  express  the  strength 
and  confidence  of  a  woman  who  knew  herself  equal 
to  her  position  and  her  task,  do  not  betray  under 
the  strained  words  more  than  natural  self- 
reliance.  There  is  no  sign  of  imperiousness  or 
tyranny. 

As  for  the  few  personal  references  preserved  of 
the  Countess,  they  have  the  simple  modesty  and 
genuineness  which  might  have  been  looked  for 
from  a  woman  so  gifted  and  godly. 


THE  COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

Both  before  and  after  the  estabhshment  of  her 
Connexion,  Lady  Huntingdon  was  in  the  habit  of 
travelling  accompanied  by  one  or  other  of  her 
chaplains,  or  by  other  clergymen  to  the  districts 
where  there  was  an  urgent  call  for  a  chapel,  or 
after  the  chapel  was  given,  to  inspect  its  working 
and  decide  on  its  requirements.  But  she  does  not 
seem  to  have  made  another  progress  so  imposing 
as  that  which  she  conducted  in  Wales  two  years 
after  her  husband's  death. 

The  Conferences  of  Methodists  which  met  from 
time  to  time  at  different  centres,  where  the  leaders 
discussed  the  tenets  and  the  poHcy  of  the  body, 
were  matters  of  keen  interest  to  Lady  Huntingdon, 
and  she  attended  one  of  them  at  Leeds.  But 
there  is  no  mention  of  her  having  come  forward 
in  any  pronounced  way,  or  of  her  having  let  her 
voice  be  heard  in  the  assembly. 

In  her  own  home  she  occasionally  addressed  her 
household  and  prayed  with  them.  An  anecdote 
is  told  of  her  in  relation  to  this  practice.  Two 
comparative  strangers,  an  uncle  and  a  niece,  were 
availing  themselves  of  the  hospitality  of  the  great 
house  for  a  night.  The  niece,  a  bold,  giddy  girl 
of  the  world — worldly,  prepared  to  witness  the 
performance  with  idle  indifference  and  supercilious 
abstraction.  The  custom  was  for  the  members  of 
the  household    and    the  guests  to  stand  behind 

56 


A   BREACH   OF   MANNERS 

their   chairs,   forming   a   circle   around   the   tall, 
slightly  swaying  figure  at  the  reading  desk. 

Her  Ladyship's  elocution,  in  course  of  time  and 
of  much  intercourse  with  any  number  of  Methodist 
public  speakers,  had  inadvertently  borrowed  from 
them — not  the  wonderfully  flexible  and  melodious 
tones  of  Whitefield,  or  of  the  sinner  Dodd,  not 
the  trumpet  tones  of  John  Wesley,  but  the  drawl 
— not  so  much  plaintive  as  well-nigh  whimpering 
— of  the  more  ilHterate  orators. 

The  girl,  who  had  been  introduced  into  a  scene 
altogether  foreign  to  her,  had  not  even  the  slender 
amount  of  modesty  and  reverence  which  would 
have  made  her  restrain  herself,  she  burst  into  an 
audible  titter,  to  the  horror  of  her  uncle,  a  well- 
bred  man  of  the  world. 

Lady  Huntingdon  had  a  large  acquaintance 
among  girls.  She  had  daughters  of  her  own,  the 
younger  of  whom  was  fast  growing  up.  Her  niece, 
Miss  Nightingale — Lady  Ehzabeth's  daughter — 
and  especially  another  niece  and  namesake.  Miss 
Sehna  Margaretta  Wheeler,  were  in  the  habit  of 
paying  her  long  visits.  But  they  were  all  gentle- 
women in  more  than  in  name,  and  were  accus- 
tomed to  treat  their  hostess  not  only  with 
affection,  but  with  the  deference  which  was  in 
her  generation  paid  to  all  women  of  her  age 
and  rank,  and  was  due  to  her  above  all. 

57 


THE   COUNTESS   OF  HUNTINGDON 

Lady  Huntingdon,  who  must  have  been  aware 
of  the  outrage,  did  not  so  much  as  open  her  eyes, 
and  neither  then  nor  afterwards  when  she  enter- 
tained her  two  visitors  with  the  utmost  poUteness 
did  she  give  the  smallest  sign  of  having  been 
sensible  of  the  unseemly  barn-door  behaviour. 

The  Countess  certainly  preferred  to  avail  herself 
at  prayers  of  the  services  of  a  clergyman,  even  of  a 
lay  worker,  or  of  one  of  her  Trevecca  students. 
Her  determination  to  make  the  last  play  their 
part  was  sometimes  enforced  in  an  informal, 
almost  comical,  manner.  She  would  thrust  a 
Bible  into  their  hands,  and  point  them  to  the  door 
of  their  private  sitting-room,  bidding  them  do 
their  duty  and  trust  in  God. 

It  was  in  the  winter  of  1767  that  Lady  Hunting- 
don, then  living  at  Bath,  sought  the  advice  of  her 
great  friend  Fletcher — incumbent  of  the  parish  of 
Madeley,  one  of  the  most  popular  and  beloved  of 
all  the  Methodist  clergymen.  He  was  French  by 
extraction,  and  to  his  other  gifts  and  graces  he 
added  the  most  kindly,  single-hearted  disposition, 
and  the  most  open-hearted,  open-handed  charity, 
which  caused  him  and  his  like-minded  wife  to 
convert  the  vicarage  at  Madeley  into  an  open  house 
for  all  the  poor,  ignorant  and  afflicted  in  the 
neighbourhood. 

The  Countess  wished  to  consult  her  friend  on 

58 


<      ~ 

'■J       = 


TREVECCA   HOUSE 

the  plans  she  was  forming  for  her  College  at  Tre- 
vecca.  She  proposed  to  admit  Christian  young 
men  resolved  to  devote  themselves  to  God's 
service.  They  were  at  liberty  to  stay  in  the  college 
three  years,  during  that  time  they  were  to  have 
their  education  gratis,  with  every  necessary  of  life, 
and  a  suit  of  clothes  once  a  year.  Afterwards 
those  who  desired  it  might  enter  the  Ministry, 
either  of  the  established  Church  of  England,  or 
as  Protestants  of  any  other  denomination.  With 
the  discrimination  which  was  one  of  her  endow- 
ments she  invited  Fletcher  to  undertake  the 
superintendence  of  her  College.  This  applied  to 
the  appointment  of  masters,  the  admission  and 
exclusion  of  students,  the  supervision  of  their 
studies  and  conduct,  to  aiding  them  in  their  pious 
efforts  and  to  judging  of  their  fitness  for  the 
Ministry  while  he  still  continued  the  devoted 
parish  priest  of  Madeley. 

This  invitation  Fletcher  accepted,  taking  no  fee 
or  reward  for  his  services.  Trevecca  House,  used 
for  the  College,  was  a  massive  old  building,  beheved 
to  be  part  of  a  castle  which  had  existed  in  the  reign 
of  Henry  II.  The  date  over  the  entrance  was 
1176. 

The  College  was  opened  for  religious  and  literary 
education,  and  the  Chapel  dedicated,  Whitefield 
and  various  clergymen  officiating,  on  the  24th  of 

59 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

August,  1768,  Lady  Huntingdon's  fiftieth  birthday. 
Fletcher  of  Madeley  was  president,  while  a  gen- 
tleman named  Easterbrook  was  assistant-presi- 
dent and  headmaster.  An  early  student  named 
Glazebrook  was  a  parishioner  of  Fletcher's,  a 
collier  and  iron  worker  in  Madeley  Wood.  He 
proved  to  be  a  man  of  decided  ability  and  worth, 
reflecting  credit  on  the  College,  and  on  the  Church 
in  which  he  was  afterwards  an  ordained  clergyman. 
His  fellow-students,  when  sufficiently  instructed, 
went  out  either  as  lay  workers  in  the  nearest 
villages  and  towns,  or  after  a  more  complete  educa- 
tion, became  pastors  of  one  or  other  of  the  dissent- 
ing churches,  or  were,  with  increasing  difficulty, 
received  as  deacons  and  priests  in  the  Church  of 
England. 

Lady  Huntingdon,  accompanied  by  various 
friends  of  her  sex  and  set,  was  present  at  the 
opening,  and  at  many  of  the  anniversaries,  staying 
for  the  time  in  the  College,  in  the  prosperity  of 
which  she  took  great  delight.  Crowds  came  from 
far  and  near  on  these  days.  Among  the  numerous 
well-known  clergymen  who  preached  and  adminis- 
tered the  Communion,  was  her  cousin,  Mr. 
Shirley,  brother  of  the  unhappy  Lawrence,  Earl 
Ferrers. 

It  would  have  been  impossible  for  the  Countess, 
burdened  as  she  was  with  the  expenses  of  her 

60 


HELP  FOR  THE   COLLEGE 

churches,  to  have  kept  up  by  her  sole  efforts  the 
growing  College,  had  it  not  been  that  she  was 
liberally  assisted  by  those  who  shared  her  views, 
more  or  less.  Twice  she  received  a  contribution  of 
five  hundred  pounds  from  John  Newton's  patron, 
the  philanthropic  banker,  Thornton ;  another 
thousand  was  given  to  her  and  gathered  for 
her  by  her  Scotch  friend,  the  woman  whose 
career  was  most  like  that  of  Lady  Huntingdon's 
in  a  generation  which  they  both  graced.  Lady 
Glenorchy. 

Not  only  the  absence  of  the  shghtest  sympathy, 
but  the  positive  hostility  of  Francis  Earl  of 
Huntingdon,  to  the  cherished  views  and  projects 
of  his  mother,  whom  he  treated  personally  with 
the  elaborate  courtesy  of  the  school  of  Chesterfield, 
was  shown  in  connection  with  a  student  of  the 
College  of  which  she  was  so  proud  and  fond.  The 
same  early  student,  Glazebrook,  who  had  struggled 
honourably  and  faithfully  against  many  obstacles 
and  thwartings  from  Oxford  tutors  and  dignitaries 
of  the  Church  of  England,  of  which  he  had  become 
an  ordained  clergyman,  in  his  difBculties  with  his 
Bishop  and  his  Archdeacon,  wrote  to  his  first 
benefactress  begging  her  to  use  her  influence  with 
her  son  to  name  him  for  one  of  the  livings  of  which 
the  Earl  was  patron.  Glazebrook' s  father-in-law, 
an  old  friend  of  the  Countess,  the  chief  medical 

61 


THE  COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

man      in      Ashby-de-la-Zouch,      supported     the 
application. 

To  both  requests  she  had  to  make  the  same 
sorrowful  reply.  It  would  have  been  a  great 
pleasure  to  her  to  do  as  they  wished,  if  she  had 
not  certainly  known  that  the  petition  would  never 
be  obtained  by  her.  For  more  than  thirty  years 
her  son's  "  most  implacable  dislike  "  had  proved 
to  her  that  he  would  never  be  entreated  on  the 
subject. 

To  do  Lady  Huntingdon's  daughter,  Countess 
Moira,  justice,  her  attitude  to  a  student  of  her 
mother's  institution,  himself  an  able  and  excellent 
man,  was  very  different.  On  the  death  of  her 
brother  without  lawful  heirs,  she  succeeded  him 
in  the  Barony  of  Hastings  and  the  lands  connected 
with  it;  when  the  same  application  was  made  to 
her,  she  befriended  the  former  Trevecca  student 
readily  and  kindly,  presenting  him  to  the  living  of 
Belton,  in  Leicestershire,  where  he  spent  the  rest 
of  his  useful  life. 

On  the  expiry  of  the  lease  on  which  Trevecca 
House  was  held,  soon  after  the  death  of  Lady 
Huntingdon  in  1791,  the  College,  in  accordance 
with  the  wish  of  its  foundress,  merged  into 
Cheshunt  College,  the  well-known  institution  for 
Nonconformist  theological  students  in  Hertford- 
shire, which  was  opened  in  August,  1792,  on  the 

62 


'?'. 


C3 


-     '^ 


REMOVAL   TO   CHESHUNT 

anniversary  of  the  opening  of  Trevecca  and  the 
birthday  of  Lady  Huntingdon.  It  had  already 
been  arranged  that  it  should  be  supported  by  sub- 
scription, and  its  affairs  managed  by  seven  trustees 
appointed  for  the  purpose. 

To  Cheshunt  went  the  Communion  Plate  and 
the  Library  which  had  been  Lady  Huntingdon's 
original  gift  at  Trevecca. 

Great  as  were  these  benefactions  of  chapels, 
college,  etc.,  etc.,  and  the  aid  rendered  by  the 
Countess  to  such  hospitals  and  reformatories  as 
were  then  in  existence,  they  were  by  no  means  the 
limit  of  Lady  Huntingdon's  schemes  for  the  good 
of  human  kind.  Her  enthusiasm  knew  no  bounds. 
Her  zeal  extended  to  all  who  were  in  her  estimation 
benighted,  to  Jews,  Turks,  and  infidels  wherever 
they  were  to  be  found.  It  need  hardly  be  said 
that,  shrewd  as  she  showed  herself,  and  surrounded 
as  she  was  by  wise  as  well  as  eager  coadjutors, 
she  was  sometimes  deceived  and  made  the  victim 
of  imposture. 

But  neither  mortification  nor  disappointment 
availed  to  cool  her  passion  for  her  Christian  work 
or  wear  out  her  love  for  her  brethren  and  sisters. 
She  had  from  the  first  subsidized  Whitefield's 
labours  in  Georgia,  especially  in  connection  with 
his  orphanage  of  Bethesda.  One  of  the  far-reach- 
ing schemes,  born  of  a  boundless  faith  fit  to  move 

63 


THE  COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

mountains,  was  imparted  in  two  letters  still  extant 
which  she  addressed  to  George  Washington.  She 
proposed,  with  his  concurrence,  to  devote  the 
income  of  her  estates  in  the  time  to  come  to  a 
great  mission  to  the  Red  Indians. 


(yi 


CHAPTER   V 

The  Shirley  Tragedy — Strange  Character  of  Lawrence  Earl  Ferrers — 
His  Marriage — His  Excesses  and  well-nigh  Incredible  Ill-treatment 
of  his  Wife — Their  Separation  by  Act  of  Parliament — The  Appoint- 
ment of  Earl  Ferrers'  Steward,  Johnson,  with  the  Earl's  Consent, 
as  one  of  the  Receivers  of  his  Master's  Rents — The  Fury  of  the 
Earl  at  Johnson's  Transmitting  to  the  Countess  Fifty  Pounds 
Unknown  to  her  Husband — Johnson  summoned  to  Attend  at 
Stanton — The  Men  Servants  sent  out  of  the  way — The  Women 
Servants  on  the  Watch  hear  threatening  Words  and  the  Report 
of  a  Pistol — Johnson  found  Fatally  Wounded — The  Earl's  Arrest 
and  Sensational  Journey  to  London  and  the  Tower — Lady  Hun- 
tingdon's Compassion  for  her  Unfortunate  Cousin — Lord  Ferrers' 
Trial — The  Company  Present — The  Sentence — The  Earl's  Last 
Requests — Lady  Huntingdon  takes  his  Children  to  Bid  him  Fare- 
well— He  Wears  his  Wedding  Suit  for  his  Execution — The 
Cavalcade   from   the  Tower  to  Tyburn — Lord  Ferrers'  Death. 

It  is  impossible  to  write  even  a  short  life  of  Lady 
Huntingdon  and  omit  what  touched  her  and  hers 
so  nearly  as  the  calamity  of  the  ghastly  end  of  her 
cousin,  her  father's  heir,  Lawrence  Shirley  Earl 
Ferrers.  He  was,  next  to  her  sons,  her  nearest 
male  relative,  the  successor  to  her  father's  title 
and  estates  ;  his  place,  where  his  crime  was  com- 
mitted, was  her  own  early  home  of  Stanton.  In 
her  youth  he  was  a  famiUar  companion. 

His  character  presented  so  strange  a  blend  of  a 
kind  of  cleverness,  and  the  extreme  of  folly  domi- 
nated by  frenzies  of  passion,  for  which  he  hardly 
seemed  accountable,  that  looking  back  on  the  man 
and  his  miserable  story  at  this  distance  of  time,  one 
arrives  at  the  conclusion  that  some  degree  of  the 
insanity  which  was  present  in  his  branch  of  the 

65 


THE   COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

Shirleys,  and  was  pled  by  his  brothers  in  an  effort 
to  save  him  at  his  trial,  was  at  the  root  of  the 
evil,  and  that  he  was  little  other  than  a  dangerous 
lunatic.  Whatever  balance  there  might  have  been 
originally  between  reason  and  unreason  was  de- 
stroyed by  the  fact  that,  according  to  the  practice 
of  the  day.  Earl  Ferrers  was  a  hard  drinker. 

He  had  married  a  pretty,  simple  girl  without  for- 
tune, but  not  much  beneath  him  in  rank,  since  she 
was  the  sister  of  a  squire  and  baronet.  Sir  William 
Meredith.  It  seems  that  poor  Countess  Ferrers, 
who  had  rashly  undertaken  a  desperate  venture, 
enticed  to  it  by  girlish  infatuation  over  the  wreck 
of  a  young  nobleman,  and  by  the  gratification  to 
girlish  vanity  in  being  entitled  to  wear  such  a 
coronet  as  that  which  graced  the  head  of  Sehna 
Countess  of  Huntingdon  and  other  grand  dames, 
alas  !  found  herself  totally  unable  to  check  the 
downward  path  of  her  lord. 

In  fact.  Lord  Ferrers'  excesses  had  increased  in 
recklessness  and  violence.  They  were,  in  spite  of 
a  certain  fitful,  passionate  fondness  for  his  wife, 
directed  against  her  till  she  lived  in  terror  of  her 
life.  His  constant  taunt  to  her  was  that  he  was 
drunk  when  she  was  first  introduced  to  him,  and 
that  she  and  her  relatives  kept  him  in  a  constant 
state  of  intoxication,  till  the  marriage  was 
accomplished. 

66 


THE   SHIRLEY    TRAGEDY 

Lady  Ferrers  was  childless,  and  partly  to  punish 
her  for  that  and  for  her  weak  tears  and  complaints 
and  her  frightened  shrinking  from  him,  partly 
because  of  the  revival  of  an  old  illicit  attachment 
to  a  poor  woman  who  had  lived  with  him  and 
borne  him  children  before  his  marriage,  he  took 
this  woman  again  as  his  mistress,  openly  flaunting 
his  infidelity  in  the  face  of  his  wife.  He  was 
seldom  sober,  would  beat  the  unfortunate  Countess 
when  the  fancy  took  him,  always  carried  pistols 
about  his  person  and  brought  them  to  bed  with  him, 
threatening  to  kill  his  Countess  before  morning. 
And  he  was  not  unlikely  to  fulfil  the  threat,  parti- 
cularly as  it  was  said  that  he  had  cruelly  struck  a 
groom  till  the  lad  died  from  the  consequences. 

It  was  high  time  that  Lady  Ferrers'  relations  and 
friends  should  interfere  for  her  protection,  and 
they  did  it  to  such  purpose  that,  by  an  Act  of  the 
two  Houses  of  Parliament,  with  the  consent  of  the 
King,  the  Countess  was  granted  a  separation  from 
the  Earl,  who  was  bound  over  by  the  House  of 
Lords  to  keep  the  peace  and  to  furnish  his  wife 
with  a  provision  for  her  maintenance  in  the  style 
of  her  rank. 

That  the  Acts  might  take  effect,  receivers  were 
appointed  to  draw  his  Lordship's  rents,  and  though 
he  was  furious  at  the  whole  arrangement,  he  so  far 
agreed  to  it   that   he   appointed   as  one  of   the 

:;67 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

receivers  his  land-steward,  Mr.  Johnson,  who 
resided  at  a  farm-house  half-a-mile  distant  from 
Stanton. 

This  Johnson  had  been  brought  up  from  boyhood 
in  the  Shirley  family,  and  its  head,  it  might  have 
been  supposed,  would  have  had  some  friendly 
associations  with  the  steward,  but  the  circum- 
stance that  he  had  sent  Lady  Ferrers  a  remittance 
of  fifty  pounds  without  his  Lordship's  knowledge 
awoke  in  him  one  of  the  paroxysms  of  rage  which 
had  grown  upon  him  till  they  completely  mastered 
him. 

Lord  Ferrers  required  Johnson's  attendance  at 
Stanton  at  three  o'clock  on  an  afternoon  in 
January,  1760.  The  master  of  the  house  in  which 
riot  and  disorder  had  long  reigned,  found  no 
difficulty  in  sending  the  men-servants  out  of  the 
way,  thus  leaving  only  women-servants  within 
call. 

On  Johnson's  arrival,  in  the  gloom  of  a  winter 
afternoon,  the  Earl  locked  the  door  of  the  room 
and  commanded  his  steward  to  sign  a  paper 
confessing  that  he  was  a  villain.  The  unhappy 
man  refused,  when  Ferrers  ordered  him  to  kneel. 
Johnson  compHed,  possibly  regarding  the  scene  as 
a  fantastic  pantomime,  and  seeking  to  appease  his 
master  by  apparent  submission  in  one  of  the  fits 
of  passion  to  which  the  steward,  who  had  known 

6S 


A  GRUESOME  CRIME 

the  Earl  from  his  youth,  must  have  been  well 
accustomed. 

The  women-servants  were  more  suspicious,  and 
apprehended  something  beyond  the  bounds  of 
Ferrers'  wonted  violence,  because  of  the  cunning 
with  which  he  had  planned  the  interview  and 
provided  against  interruption.  These  maid- 
servants, watching  and  listening,  heard  their 
master  shout,  "  Down  on  your  other  knee.  De- 
clare that  you  have  acted  against  Lord  Ferrers. 
Your  time  is  come — you  must  die."  Then  the 
crack  of  a  pistol-shot  followed. 

On  the  alarmed  women  rushing  to  the  spot,  the 
Earl  unlocked  the  door  and  made  no  objection  to 
assistance  being  procured  in  the  shape  of  the 
nearest  doctor,  and  of  the  daughter  of  poor 
Johnson,  who  was  desperately  wounded  in  the 
side. 

But,  as  night  and  darkness  came  on,  the  drink 
to  which  the  murderer  had  recourse  still  further 
excited  him.  He  returned  again  and  again  to  the 
room,  loaded  the  dying  man  with  abuse,  and  was 
with  difficulty  kept  from  striking  him  and  from 
tearing  off  his  bandages.  The  last  outrage  was 
to  tweak  him  by  the  wig.  The  doctor  was  forced 
to  remove  his  patient  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
to  his  own  house,  where  he  died  in  the  course  of 
a   few   hours.     When  told  of  the  death,   Lord 

6— (»3«»i 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

Ferrers   declared  that  he  gloried  in  the  deed  he 
had  committed. 

The  crime  was  so  atrociously  unprovoked,  cold- 
blooded, and  done  in  the  face  of  day,  that  no  rank, 
and  not  even  the  well-founded  defence  of  craziness, 
could  shield  the  impenitent  perpetrator.  The  law 
was  not  to  be  so  openly  defied.  Lord  Ferrers  was 
arrested  without  making  any  resistance,  though 
he  was  armed  with  several  pistols  and  a  dagger. 
He  was  removed  from  Ashby-de-la-Zouch  to 
Leicester  Gaol,  and  from  Leicester  Gaol  in  the 
course  of  a  fortnight  to  the  Tower  of  London. 

With  the  curious,  punctilious  deference  to  his 
class  which  belonged  to  the  time,  he  was  allowed, 
while  securely  guarded  on  his  journey,  to  travel 
in  his  own  landau,  drawn  by  six  horses,  he  himself 
wearing  a  jockey's  jacket,  cap  and  boots. 

Lord  Ferrers  was  first  taken  before  the  House 
of  Lords,  when  the  report  of  the  Coroner's  inquest 
on  Johnson  was  read,  and  the  Earl  was  escorted  by 
Black  Rod  to  the  Tower,  where  he  lay  for  two 
months  before  his  trial  came  on. 

All  through  Ferrers'  imprisonment,  both  before 
and  after  his  trial,  his  kinswoman.  Lady  Hunting- 
don, visited  him  constantly  with  his  consent, 
though  he  probably  guessed  that  it  was  in  conse- 
quence of  her  representations  that  the  Governor 
of^the  Tower  lessened  the  prisoner's  allowance  of 

70 


A    HARDENED    PRISONER] 

wine,  and  after  he  was  condemned,  withdrew 
the  playing-cards  with  which  he  had  solaced 
himself. 

But  Ferrers  not  only  continued  to  receive  Lady 
Huntingdon  ;  he  even  sent  for  her^  "  for  the  sake  of 
company,"  he  said.  But  he  paid  no  heed  to  her 
efforts  to  bring  him  to  a  better  frame  of  mind. 
According  to  Horace  Walpole,  Lord  Ferrers  was  at 
least  "  not  mad  enough  to  listen  to  my  lady's 
sermons."  In  her  despair  on  his  account,  she 
persuaded  him  to  allow  Whiteiield  to  visit  him 
twice.  But,  thought  he  Earl  behaved  to  the 
Methodist  preacher  with  the  utmost  politeness,  as 
if  he  had  taken  a  leaf  from  Lord  Chesterfield's 
and  Francis  Earl  of  Huntingdon's  book,  he  was 
unmoved  by  the  voice  which  swayed  multitudes. 
And  the  public  prayers  which  Whiteiield  put  up  for 
the  transgressor,  in  the  Methodist  fashion  of  the 
day,  were  in  human  judgment  unanswered. 
Horace  Walpole  called  Whiteiield  an  'impertinent 
fellow,"  because  the  preacher,  in  his  free,  fearless 
way,  stated  the  transparent  fact  that  his  Lordship's 
heart  was  as  hard  as  a  stone. 

The  Earl  complained  that  his  cousin,  Lady 
Huntingdon,  would  provoke  a  saint,  but  he  had  her 
admitted  to  him  to  the  last,  after  he  had  refused 
to  see  his  nearer  relations,  and  he  yielded  to  her 
persuasions,  in  more  than  one  instance,  when  he 

71 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

was  bent  upon  conduct  still  more  defiant  than 
that  he  succeeded  in  committing. 

Lord  Ferrers'  trial  took  place  on  the  16th  of 
April,  1760,  and  lasted  three  days.  It  was  held  in 
Westminster  Hall,  and  was  attended  by  various 
members  of  the  Royal  Family,  by  a  crowd  of  peers 
and  peeresses,  and  by  numbers  of  people  of  every 
degree  who  could,  by  hook  or  by  crook,  obtain 
admittance. 

Horace  Walpole  was  there,  dropping  his  heart- 
less, caustic  remarks  into  the  ears  of  the  dying 
beauty.  Lady  Coventry,  one  of  the  famous 
Gunnings,  who  sat  next  to  him.  He  was  greatly 
entertained  with  the  fine  show  of  the  young  peers 
in  their  new  and  splendid  robes,  and  he  was 
diverted  by  the  pride  of  others,  among  them 
Francis  Earl  of  Huntingdon  (come  to  give  his  vote 
for  or  against  his  mother's  cousin  and  early 
playmate).  These  peers,  of  whom  Lord  Hunting- 
don was  one,  preferred  the  ragged  robes  which 
testified  to  the  antiquity  of  their  titles,  for  it 
was  said  some  of  the  robes  had  been  worn  at 
the  trial  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots.  Charles 
Wesley  was  present,  with  George  Whitefield 
and  his  wife,  interested  in  the  behalf  of  their 
Countess. 

Lord  Ferrers  refused  to  plead  guilty,  but  was 
induced,  much  against  his  will,  to  consent  to  the 

72 


SENTENCE  OF  DEATH 

plea  of  family  insanity,  to  which  his  brothers  came 
forward  and  gave  testimony. 

But  the  coolness  of  the  prisoner,  and  the  apparent 
rationality  with  which  he  could  speak  and  write 
when  his  fits  of  drink  and  passion  did  not  overcome 
him,  contradicted  the  only  evidence  which  could 
be  brought  forward  in  his  defence. 

Ferrers  was  condemned  to  be  hanged  at  Tyburn, 
the  sentence  being  pronounced  by  the  Earl  of 
Nottingham,  who  acted  as  High  Steward.  Then 
for  an  instant  the  prisoner  made  an  effort  to  save 
himself — his  voice  was  heard  asking  his  brother 
peers  to  recommend  him  to  mercy. 

But  the  act  for  which  he  suffered  was  too  flagrant 
and  horrible,  the  verdict  was  too  unanimous  to 
admit  of  its  being  set  aside  by  the  utmost  exertions 
on  the  part  of  the  Earl's  family  and  friends. 

During  the  three  weeks  granted  before  the 
execution  took  place,  three  different  petitions  were 
presented  to  the  old  King,  George  H.  One  from 
the  doomed  man's  mother,  another  from  the 
remaining  members  of  his  family,  and  a  third 
from  the  Lord  Keeper.  The  King  could  not  grant 
them. 

Throughout  these  last  weeks  Lord  Ferrers 
remained  unchanged — calm,  scornful  and  stoHd. 
His  cousin.  Lady  Huntingdon,  and  his  brother- 
in-law,  Sir  Wilham  Meredith,  those  who  knew  him 

73 


THE   COUNTESS   OF    HUNTINGDON 

best,  had  the  idea  that  his  highly-strung,  sorely 
shattered  nerves  would  give  way  in  the  end,  as 
they  had  collapsed  more  than  once  before  in  the 
course  of  his  hfe,  but  it  was  not  so. 

He  is  said  to  have  made  two  requests,  that  in 
consideration  of  his  rank  he  should  be  beheaded 
and  not  hung,  and  that  not  at  Tyburn,  but  on  the 
spot  where  his  ancestor,  Robert  Devereux  Earl  of 
Essex,  perished.  But  high  treason  is  counted  one 
thing,  and  common  vulgar  murder  another. 

The  second  petition,  that  he  should  be  hanged 
with  a  silken  rope,  is  said  to  have  been  complied 
with. 

Lord  Ferrers  concluded  his  requests  by  begging 
Lord  Cornwallis,  the  Governor  of  the  Tower,  to 
pay  no  heed  to  the  wishes  of  his  family,  with  regard 
to  him,  as  he  thought  them  very  absurd. 

Earl  Ferrers  had  formed  the  wild  purpose  of 
taking  leave  of  his  children  on  the  scaffold,  and  of 
improving  the  occasion  by  reading  to  them,  and 
to  the  assembled  crowd,  a  paper  he  had  drawn  up 
against  his  wife's  family,  and  against  the  House 
of  Lords,  for  granting  the  separation  between 
husband  and  wife.  (Lady  Ferrers  does  not  seem 
to  have  made  any  attempt  to  see  her  husband  for 
the  last  time,  to  exchange  forgivenesses  with  him, 
and  to  bid  him  farewell). 

Lady  Huntingdon  got  Ferrers  to  give  up  his 

74 


THE   EXECUTION 

intention,  and,  though  she  was  rigid  in  opposing 
his  desire  that  the  Governor  might  permit  him  to 
see  the  miserable  woman  who  had  been  his 
mistress,  the  Countess  herself,  on  the  day  before 
his  death,  took  the  four  poor  girls  who  were  his 
children  to  his  apartments  in  the  Tower,  where  he 
parted  from  them,  seemingly  with  little  feeling. 

Before  going  to  bed  on  that  last  night  he  had 
"  Hamlet  "  read  to  him  by  a  keeper. 

On  the  day  of  his  execution,  the  5th  of  May,  he 
dressed  in  the  suit  he  had  worn  at  his  wedding, 
"  of  a  hght  colour  embroidered  in  silver,"  saying 
in  explanation  that  he  thought  this  at  least  as 
good  an  occasion  for  putting  the  clothes  on  as 
that  for  which  they  were  made.  He  paid  his  bills 
with  punctuality  and  unconcern.  His  last  act 
was  to  correct  some  verses  which  he  had  written 
while  in  the  Tower.  In  the  lines  he  declared  him- 
self a  questioner  and  a  doubter  of  what  was  true  in 
life  and  death. 

At  nine  the  Sheriffs  of  London  and  of  Middlesex 
arrived  at  the  gates  of  the  Tower  to  claim  his  body. 
His  fantastic  haughtiness  reasserted  itself  in 
requesting  that  he  might  go  to  the  gallows  in  his 
landau  with  the  six  horses,  instead  of  in  a  mourning 
coach,  and  his  wish  was  granted. 

If  it  was  any  gratification  to  him,  and  one  cannot 
help  thinking  that  it  must  have  been,  the  pomp 

75 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

of  that  dismal  procession  was  as  striking  as  was 
its  lamentable  sadness.  It  could  hardly  have  been 
outdone  by  all  the  ghastly  cavalcades  which  have 
traversed  similar  routes.  When  the  pageant 
started  it  consisted  of  constables,  horse  and  foot, 
soldiers,  the  Sheriff  who  did  not  ride  with  him  in 
his  chariot  and  six,  the  horses  dressed  with  ribbons, 
the  central  landau  with  its  occupants  guarded  on 
each  side  by  soldiers,  the  empty  chariot  and  six 
of  the  Sheriff  who  rode  with  Lord  Ferrers,  a 
mourning  coach  with  his  friends,  and  a  hearse  and 
six  to  convey  the  corpse  to  Surgeons'  Hall. 

The  procession  took  nearly  three  hours  to  reach 
its  destination.  Lord  Ferrers  continuing  quite 
composed  and  behaving  with  great  courtesy  to  all 
the  officials  with  whom  he  came  into  contact.  He 
wished  the  journey  over,  and  said  the  details  and 
the  tremendous  crowd  through  which  the  cortege 
passed  were  worse  than  death  itself.  But  he 
excused  the  morbid  curiosity  which  brought  the 
concourse  as  to  a  gala  show  by  the  ironical  observa- 
tion that  they  had  never  seen  a  lord  hanged  before, 
and  perhaps  would  never  see  another.  He  ex- 
pressed sympathy  with  one  of  the  dragoons  who 
was  thrown  from  his  horse,  and  trusted  there  would 
be  no  death  that  day  save  his. 

The  Chaplain  endeavoured  to  engage  Lord 
Ferrers  in  a  profitable  conversation,  and  sought 

76 


SCENE  ON   THE  SCAFFOLD 

to  ascertain  what  were  his  Lordship's  reUgious 
opinions — a  proceeding  which  he  resented  some- 
what, and  Uttle  was  got  from  him,  except  that  he 
believed  there  was  a  God,  the  Maker  of  all  things. 

When  the  Chaplain,  in  what  sounds  like  an 
apology,  reminded  Lord  Ferrers  that  a  prayer  was 
usual  at  an  execution,  and  asked  his  consent  to 
say  the  Lord's  Prayer,  he  answered  that  he  had 
always  thought  that  a  good  prayer,  and  the 
Chaplain  might  use  it  if  he  pleased. 

The  scaffold  had  been  hung  with  black  at  the 
expense  of  Lord  Ferrers'  relations.  The  only 
emotion  he  showed  on  mounting  it  was  a 
movement  of  distaste  at  the  sight  of  the  gallows. 

He  was  pinioned  with  a  black  sash.  At  first  he 
had  objected  to  having  his  hands  tied  or  his  face 
covered,  but  he  submitted  when  the  necessity  was 
represented  to  him.  He  knelt  at  the  repeating  of 
the  Lord's  Prayer,  and,  before  rising,  said  with 
solemn  emphasis,  "  Oh  God,  forgive  me  all  my 
errors.  Pardon  all  my  sin."  In  a  few  seconds  he 
was  dead. 

Horace  Walpole,  having  stigmatised  in  no 
measured  terms  "  the  horrid  lunatic,"  was  con- 
strained to  add  that  in  the  matter  in  which  he  met 
his  death  he  shamed  heroes. 

The  light-minded  gossip  wound  up  with  some- 
thing like   a  congratulation  :     "  The   Methodists 

77 


THE   COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

have  nothing  to  brag  of  in  his  conversion  .  .  . 
though  Whitefield  prayed  for  him  and  preached 
about  him.  I  have  not  heard  that  Lady  Fanny 
(Lady  Fanny  Shirley,  Lord  Ferrers'  aunt)  dabbled 
with  his  soul." 

There  was  no  foundation  for  the  tradition,  which 
long  survived  in  the  mouths  of  the  sensation-loving 
public,  that  Lord  Ferrers  on  the  scaffold  cursed  his 
wife  for  her  share  in  his  death,  and  prophesied 
that  she  would  die  by  fire.  The  legend  went  on 
to  tell  that  she  lived  for  many  years  in  dread  of  the 
fulfilment  of  the  prophecy  which  proved  true  in 
the  end.  By  an  accident  which  befell  her,  she 
spent  a  night  in  a  house  which  was  partially  burned 
down,  the  fire  destroying  the  room  in  which  she 
had  slept,  and  in  which  she  perished. 


78 


CHAPTER  VI 

Lady  Huntingdon's  Friends — Sarah  Duchess  of  Marlborough — Two 
of  her  Letters — Doctor  Young's  "  Narcissa  " — The  Chesterfield 
Family — The  Earl  and  Countess — Lord  Chesterfield's  Sister.  Lady 
Gertrude  Hotham — Lord  Chesterfield's  Winning  Manners — His 
"  Leap  in  the  Dark  " — Triumphant  Deaths  of  Miss  Hotham  and 
her  Mother — Friends  among  the  Wives  of  her  Clergymen,  Mrs.  Venn, 
Fletcher  of  Madeley's  Wife — The  Peculiarities  of  the  Wives  of  John 
Wesley  and  Whitefield — Lady  Huntingdon's  Affection  for  Mrs. 
Charles  Wesley — Nursing  her  through  Smallpox — Lady  Hunting- 
don's Contemporary,  "  Grace  Murray  " — Her  Last  Meeting  with 
John  Wesley — The  Humourist  Berridge  of  Everton  among  Lady 
Huntingdon's  Men  Friends. 

In  Lady  Huntingdon's  youth  she  numbered 
among  her  friends  that  most  masterful  of  dames, 
Sarah  Duchess  of  Marlborough,  Queen  Anne's 
saucy  Mrs.  Freeman,  the  beautiful  vixen  who  cut 
off  her  chestnut  curls  in  order  to  spite  her  lord  and 
master  and  found  them  later  in  the  cabinet  in 
which  he  had  kept  his  treasures  ;  the  same  Sarah, 
the  dauntless  invalid  who  told  her  doctor  that  she 
would  not  put  on  a  blister,  and  she  would  not  die, 
the  vindictive  grannie  who  had  the  pictured  face 
of  her  grand-daughter  daubed  black  that  it  might 
correspond  with  the  colour  of  her  heart.  Even 
she  was  susceptible  to  Countess  Selina's  influence. 
Two  letters  from  the  great  Sarah,  wonderfully 
sensible  and  modest,  yet  characteristic  withal,  are 
still  in  existence.  In  these  she  records  her  regard 
for  Lady  Huntingdon,  and  her  willingness  to 
accompany  her  to  hear  Whitefield  and  to  derive 

79 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

the  good  which  the  Duchess  believed  she  got  from 
his  preaching. 

"  My  dear  Lady  Huntingdon  is  always  so  very 
good  to  me,  and  I  really  do  feel  so  very  sensibly 
all  your  kindness  and  attention,  that  I  must  accept 
your  very  obhging  invitation  to  accompany  you 
to  hear  Mr.  Whitefield,  though  I  am  still  suffering 
from  the  effects  of  a  severe  cold.  Your  concern 
for  my  improvement  and  religious  knowledge  is 
very  obhging,  and  I  do  hope  that  I  shall  be  the 
better  for  all  your  excellent  advice. 

"  God  knows  we  all  need  mending,  and  none  more 
than  myself.  I  have  lived  to  see  great  changes 
in  the  world, — have  acted  a  conspicuous  part 
myself — and  now  hope  in  my  old  days  to  obtain 
mercy  from  God,  as  I  never  expect  any  at  the 
hands  of  my  fellow-creatures. 

"  The  Duchess  of  Ancaster,  Lady  Townshend 
and  Lady  Cobham  were  exceedingly  pleased  with 
many  observations  in  Mr.  Whitefield's  sermon  at 
St.  Sepulchre's  Church,  which  has  made  me  lament 
ever  since  that  I  did  not  hear  it.  It  might  have 
been  the  means  of  doing  me  some  good,  for  good, 
alas  !  I  do  want ;  but  where  among  the  corrupt 
sons  and  daughters  of  Adam  am  I  to  find  it  ? 

"  Your  ladyship  must  direct  me.  You  are  all 
goodness  and  kindness,  and  I  often  wish  I  had  a 
portion  of  it.  Women  of  wit,  beauty  and  quality 
cannot  bear  too  many  humiliating  truths — they 
shock  our  pride — but  we  must  die,  we  must 
converse  with  earth  and  worms. 

"  Pray  do  me  the  favour  to  present  my  humble 
service  to  your  excellent  spouse — a  more  amiable 

80 


A   DUCHESS'S   CONFESSIONS 

man  I  do  not  know  than  Lord  Huntingdon.     And 
believe  me, 

"  My  dear  Madam, 
"  Your  most  faithful  and  most  humble 

servant, 

"S.  Marlborough." 

The  second  letter  is  as  follows  : — 

"  Your  letter,  my  dear  Madam,  was  very 
acceptable.  Many  thanks  to  Lady  Fanny  for  her 
good  wishes,  being  a  communication  from  her  and 
my  dear  good  Lady  Huntingdon  ;  they  are  always 
welcome  and  always  in  every  particular  to  my 
satisfaction.  I  have  no  comfort  in  my  own 
family,  therefore  must  look  for  that  pleasure  and 
gratification  which  others  can  impart. 

"  I  hope  you  will  shortly  come  and  see  me  and 
give  me  more  of  your  company  than  I  have  had 
latterly.  In  truth  I  always  feel  more  happy  and 
more  contented  after  an  hour's  conversation  with 
you  than  after  a  whole  week's  round  of  amuse- 
ments. When  alone  my  reflections  and  recollec- 
tions almost  kill  me,  and  I  am  forced  to  fly  to  the 
society  of  those  I  detest  and  abhor.  Now  there  is 
Lady  Frances  Saunderson's  great  rout  to-morrow 
night,  all  the  world  will  be  there,  and  I  must  go. 
I  do  hate  that  woman  as  much  as  I  do  a  physician, 
but  I  must  go  if  for  no  other  purpose  than  to 
mortify  and  spite  her. 

"  This  is  very  wicked,  I  know,  but  I  confess  all 
my  little  peccadillos  to  you,  for  I  know  your 
goodness  will  lead  you  to  be  mild  and  forgiving, 
and  perhaps  my  wicked  heart  may  get  some  good 
from  you  in  the  end. 

81 


THE   COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

"  Make  my  kindest  respects  to  Lord  Hunting- 
don. Lady  Fanny  has  my  best  wishes  for  the 
success  of  her  attack  on  that  crooked,  perverse, 
little  wretch  at  Twickenham  (Pope).  Assure 
yourself,  my  dear  good  Madam,  that  I  am  your 
most  faithful  and  most  obliged  humble  servant, 

"  S.  Marlborough." 

A  very  different  friend  of  the  Countess's  in  these 
comparatively  early  days  was  young  Mrs.  Temple, 
grand- daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Lichfield,  and 
daughter  of  Lady  Elizabeth  and  Colonel  Lee. 
Lady  Elizabeth,  on  Colonel  Lee's  death,  had 
married,  for  the  second  time,  Young,  of  "  Night 
Thoughts "  fame.  Lady  Huntingdon  had  met 
him  at  the  Twickenham  villa  of  her  aunt.  Lady 
Fanny  Shirley,  whose  favourite  divine  he  was. 
Miss  Lee,  Young's  cherished  step-daughter, 
married  Mr.  Temple,  son  of  the  Lord  Palmerston 
of  that  day.  She  died  of  consumption  a  year  after 
her  marriage  at  Montpellier,  to  which  her  sorrowing 
mother  and  step-father  had  taken  her  in  hope  of 
her  recovery.  She  was  the  Narcissa  of  the 
"  Night  Thoughts." 

A  pathetic  episode  in  connection  with  her  death 
is  recorded  in  the  life  of  Lady  Huntingdon. 

"  As  the  Doctor  (Young)  saw  her  gradually 
declining  he  used  frequently  to  walk  backwards 
and    forwards    in    a    place    called   '  The    King's 

S2 


THE   CHESTERFIELD   FAMILY 

Garden  '  to  find  the  most  solitary  spot  where  he 
might  show  his  last  token  of  affection  by  having 
her  remains  as  secure  as  possible  from  those 
savages  who  would  have  denied  her  Christian 
burial  ;  for  at  that  time  an  Englishman  in  France 
was  looked  on  as  a  heretic  and  infidel  or  a  devil. 
The  under-gardener,  being  bribed,  pointed  out 
the  most  solitary  place,  dug  the  grave  and  let  him 
bury  his  beloved  daughter.  The  man,  through  a 
private  door,  admitted  the  Doctor  at  midnight, 
bringing  his  daughter  wrapped  in  a  sheet  upon  his 
shoulders,  and  laid  her  in  the  hole.  He  sat  down 
and  shed  a  flood  of  tears  over  the  remains  of  his 
dear  Narcissa. 

"  With  pious  sacrilege  a  grave  I  stole," 

he  writes  in  his  "  Night  Thoughts." 

With  the  entire  Chesterfield  family  Lady 
Huntingdon  was  intimate  for  the  greater  part  of 
her  hfe.  Lord  Chesterfield's  wife  and  sister  were 
among  the  Countess's  dearest  friends.  Unhke 
the  husband  and  brother,  they  held  the  faith  and 
were  women  of  high  character  and  of  decided 
benevolence  and  piety,  working  willingly  in  con- 
nection with  Lady  Huntingdon,  and  contributing 
liberally  to  Trevecca  College,  and  other 
philanthropic  institutions. 

Lady  Chesterfield  was  the  daughter  of  George  I 

83 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

and  the  Duchess  of  Kendal,  and  had  been  created 
in  her  own  right  Countess  of  Walsingham  and 
Baroness  of  Aldburgh.  She  was  a  cultivated  and 
accomplished  woman  in  her  generation.  She  was, 
of  course,  a  kinswoman  of  George  III,  and  a 
persona  grata  at  Court,  filling  a  high  position 
honourably  and  blamelessly.  Unequally  yoked  in 
marriage,  while  faithfully  discharging  a  wife's 
duties,  she  could  only  count  on  receiving  from 
Lord  Chesterfield  perfectly  well-bred,  courteous 
pohteness. 

An  anecdote  exists  which  shows  that  his  lord- 
ship's complaisance  extended  to  selecting  and 
procuring  from  the  Continent  at  some  trouble  and 
expense  the  dress  which  Lady  Chesterfield  wore 
on  her  last  appearance  at  Court — a  tasteful, 
suitable  gown  of  sober  brown,  "  relieved  by  silver 
flowers  thrown  up  on  the  brocade."  It  attracted 
the  attention  of  George  III,  who,  with  his  usual 
brusqueness  and  inconsequence,  hailed  his  cousin 
two  or  three  times  removed  :  "I  know  who  chose 
that  gown  for  you — Mr.  Whitefield  ;  and  I  hear 
you  have  attended  on  him  this  year-and-a-half." 

Her  candid  answer  was,  "  Yes,  I  have,  and  hke 
him  very  well." 

Lord  Chesterfield's  lack  of  heart  and  truth,  in  the 
middle  of  his  exquisite  affectation,  seems  neither 
to  have  alienated  his  friends'  affection  nor  to  have 

S4 


"A   LEAP   IN   THE   DARK" 

altogether  extinguished  the  trust  that  he  might  yet 
change  his  views.  His  influence  over  such  women 
as  Lady  Huntingdon  and  his  wife  resembled  that 
won  by  the  royal  reprobate  Charles  II  over  his 
good  citizens  of  London,  sheerly  through  the  grace 
and  pleasantness  of  his  perennial  good-temper. 
In  writing  of  Lord  Chesterfield  to  Mr.  Whitefield, 
in  the  vain  hope  of  his  final  conversion,  the 
Countess  refers  to  the  man  so  unlike  herself  as 
"  dear  Lord  Chesterfield." 

As  for  the  Countess  of  Chesterfield,  she  refused 
to  quit  for  a  moment  his  lordship's  melancholy 
death-bed,  which  the  dying  man  designated  "  A 
leap  in  the  dark."  In  her  last  desperate  effort, 
she  is  said  to  have  sent  for  Rowland  Hill,  to  whom 
Lord  Chesterfield  might  listen,  because  Hill  was 
Sir  Rowland  Hill's  son,  in  addition  to  being  a 
Methodist  divine  and  a  famous  preacher.  It  need 
not  be  said  the  sick  man  refused  to  comply  with 
his  wife's  request,  and  would  neither  see  nor  hear 
the  ghostly  counsellor. 

Lord  Chesterfield's  sister,  Lady  Gertrude  Hotham, 
was  a  still  dearer  friend  of  Lady  Huntingdon's,  one 
in  relation  to  whose  family  the  Countess  had  her 
last  hold  on  her  son,  the  Earl,  and  a  faint  trust, 
on  the  verge  of  extinction,  that  he  might  yet  be 
reclaimed  from  the  error  of  his  opinions  as  a  noto- 
rious    free-thinker.      Lady    Gertrude's     son,    Sir 

85 

7— (  30  ) 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

Charles  Hotham,  an  amiable,  well-disposed  young 
man,  though  not  then  taking  a  definite  side  on  the 
religious  question,  which  bulked  largely — even 
among  the  young  and  gay  in  the  exclusive  circles 
of  the  day — was  for  a  time  Lord  Huntingdon's 
chosen  companion.  Nay,  fashionable  rumour  had 
it  that  the  Earl  admired  greatly,  and  was  fast 
becoming  attached  to,  one  of  Sir  Charles's  sisters, 
the  special  friend  of  Lord  Huntingdon's  own  sister. 
Lady  Selina  Hastings,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
both  young  girls  were  true  daughters  of  their 
mothers  and  ardent  Methodists. 

Was  human  love  to  be  the  divine  instrument  for 
breaking  down  the  hard,  cold  barrier  which  his 
worship  of  reason  had  erected  between  mother 
and  son  ?  It  was  so  in  the  case  of  Sir  Charles 
Hotham.  It  failed  when  it  had  to  do  with  Lord 
Huntingdon. 

His  friend's  sister  gradually  declined  in  health, 
and  died  in  such  a  "  calm  splendour  "  of  faith  and 
hope,  that  Whitefield,  who  was  present,  com- 
memorated the  triumph  over  death  in  a  funeral 
sermon  which  he  preached. 

Shortly  after  Miss  Hotham's  death,  her  brother, 
Sir  Charles,  married  much  to  his  mother's  mind, 
but  in  two  more  years  his  young  wife  was  attacked 
by  fever  and  died  in  the  course  of  a  few  days. 
From  that  time  he  made  an  open  profession  of  his 

86 


WHITEFIELD  AND  THE  PRESBYTERIANS 

religion,  even  in  the  trying  atmosphere  of  a  Court, 
as  he  had  been  appointed,  through  his  uncle  Lord 
Chesterfield's  influence,  a  gentleman-of-the-bed- 
chamber  to  George  III.  Sir  Charles  survived  his 
wife  eight  years,  and  died  when  still  in  his  prime, 
near  Spa,  where  he  had  been  ordered  for  his 
health. 

The  evening  after  his  mother,  Lady  Gertrude, 
had  received  the  sad  tidings  of  her  son's  death, 
she  accidentally  set  fire  to  her  ruffles  when  sitting 
alone  reading,  and  was  severely  burned  about  her 
neck  and  head.  She  showed  great  patience  under 
her  sufferings  during  the  fortnight  which  elapsed 
before  death  ended  them.  With  well-nigh  her  last 
breath  she  ejaculated  "  happy,  happy." 

Lady  Huntingdon  had  many  valued  friends  in 
Scotland,  the  Buchan  Erskines,  the  Maxwells,  etc., 
etc.,  whom  she  visited,  who  were  ready  to  welcome 
Whitefield  for  her  sake.  But,  though  he  preached 
to  great  crowds  and  left  a  deep  impression  behind 
him,  his  Calvinism  did  not  weigh  sufficiently  with 
the  authorities  of  the  Scotch  Church  to  justify 
what  they  regarded  as  the  irregular  license  of  some 
of  his  views  and  actions.  In  the  country  where 
Presbyterianism  followed  the  strict  hues  laid  down 
by  John  Knox,  the  Melvilles,  etc.,  etc.,  even  those 
who  had  diverged  from  the  Church  of  Scotland, 
led  by  the  famous  brothers  Ralph  and  Ebenezer 

87 


THE   COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

Erskine,  to  whom  Whitefield  went  by  invitation, 
could  not  agree  with  his  opinions  on  discipline 
and  Church  government,  and  in  the  end  the 
Erskines  withdrew  from  a  proposed  alHance  with 
him. 

Lady  Huntingdon's  innumerable  friends,  for 
she  elected  to  be  the  friend  of  everyone  who,  as 
she  would  have  quoted,  "  loved  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  in  sincerity,"  were  the  religious  leaders  of 
the  day,  whether  Church  of  England  or  Noncon- 
formists, and  she  was  in  frequent  correspondence 
with  many  of  them. 

Naturally  for  a  woman  engaged  in  so  much  public 
work.  Lady  Huntingdon's  friends  and  correspon- 
dents were  largely  men.  Her  women  friends  were 
to  be  found  mostly  among  women  of  her  own  class. 
Circumstances  forbade  anything  else.  On  inti- 
mate terms  as  she  was  at  one  time  with  John 
Wesley,  and  always  with  Whitefield,  there  is  no 
mention  of  any  deahng  with  their  wives  nor  indeed 
with  the  wives  of  many  clergymen  unless  where 
they  had  intermarried  with  the  upper  classes,  as 
happened  not  infrequently.  These  alliances  or 
mesalliances,  were  brought  home  to  the  Countess 
in  the  case  of  her  two  sisters-in-law,  Lady  Margaret 
Ingham  and  Lady  Catherine  Wheeler,  and  of  Lady 
Huntingdon's  niece  and  namesake,  who  became 
the  wife  of  the  Rev.  — .  Wills. 

88 


THE  COUNTESS  &   HER   PASTORS'   WIVES 

The  wives  of  her  friends — the  clergymen  or 
pastors,  who  were  in  their  husband's  rank — were 
not  at  leisure,  and  many  of  them  were  hardly 
suited  for  the  intercourse  which  the  husbands 
enjoyed.  These  matrons  were  more  or  less  en- 
grossed with  their  family  duties  and  affairs  ;  often 
they  had  not  received  such  an  education  as  would 
have  fitted  them  to  enter  the  upper  ranks,  and  to 
appear  in  them  with  advantage.  Men  constantly 
rise  socially,  and  are  often  quite  equal  to  the 
ascent,  while  they  do  it  and  themselves  credit 
in  the  process.  Women,  in  spite  of  their  power 
of  accommodating  themselves  to  circumstances, 
accomplish  the  transfer  more  rarely  than  men,  and, 
so  far  as  success  is  concerned,  less  effectually. 
This  was  still  more  true  a  century  ago,  when  the 
Unes  of  demarcation  between  the  classes  were 
stronger. 

There  were  exceptions  to  the  usually  shght 
relations  between  Lady  Huntingdon  and  the 
wives  of  the  clergymen  of  her  connexion.  It  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  altogether  so  in  the  case  of 
Mrs.  Pentycross,  to  whom  Lady  Huntingdon  is 
said  to  have  been  partial  for  her  great  good- 
humour  as  well  as  for  her  seriousness  of  mind,  to 
whom  her  ladyship  on  one  occasion  wrote  a  very 
gracious  letter,  so  gracious  that  it  is  not  without  a 
flavour  of  a  great  lady's  condescension  as  well  as 

89 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

of  her  dignity,  and  she  accompanied  the  letter  by 
the  considerate  gift  of  a  silver  teapot. 

But  certainly  the  barriers  of  caste  and  breeding 
were  over-leaped  with  Mrs.  Venn,  whose  early 
death  was  earnestly  lamented  by  the  Countess  as 
by  her  other  friends.  There  was  still  another  lady 
who  could  not  fail  to  come  under  the  notice  of  Lady 
Huntingdon,  and  to  be  regarded  by  her  with  lively 
approval.  This  was  the  wife  of  the  much-loved 
Fletcher  of  Madeley,  who,  in  addition  to  his  other 
burdens,  took  upon  him  the  office  of  the  presi- 
dency of  Lady  Huntingdon's  College  of  Trevecca 
from  sheer  love  of  her  and  the  work.  He  had 
married  a  congenial  partner,  a  Miss  Bosanquet, 
whose  worldly  position  and  means  were  the  least 
of  her  gifts  and  graces.  She  worked  with  him 
heart  and  soul,  during  the  not  very  long  time  their 
union  lasted,  when  they  made  of  Madeley  Vicarage 
the  refuge  of  all  the  weary  and  heavy-laden,  the 
sick  and  the  sorrowful,  the  poor  and  the  needy  in 
the  parish,  so  that  the  memory  of  their  blessed 
life  Ungered  for  generations,  like  the  crushed  sweet- 
ness of  perished  flowers,  in  the  place  where  they 
had  dwelt  for  a  season. 

In  the  domestic  relations  with  John  Wesley  and 
Whitefield,  with  whom  Lady  Huntingdon  was  long 
closely  allied,  there  were  reasons  why  the  esteem 
which  she  entertained  for  the  husbands  did  not 

90 


MRS.  JOHN  WESLEY  &  MRS.  WHITEFIELD 

extend  to  the  wives.  Neither  man  was  happily 
married,  both  were  unfortunate  in  their  choice  of 
the  two  widows  who  became  their  partners,  who 
might  already  have  had  sufficient  experience  of 
matrimony  to  know  that  they  were  unsuited  for 
it,  especially  in  reference  to  men  who  were  en- 
grossed with  their  Master's  work,  to  which  all  else, 
including  their  wives'  claims,  must  be  subordinate. 
Without  being  guilty  of  worse  offences,  Mrs.  John 
Wesley  and  Mrs.  Whitefield  belonged  to  that 
troublesome  order  of  women  who  are  full  of  whims 
and  moods  of  tempers,  discontents  and  suspicions, 
such  as  tend  to  drive  ordinary  men,  who  have  not 
higher  things  to  think  of,  beside  themselves,  and 
to  tempt  them  to  pay  the  women  back  in  their 
own  coin. 

The  wives  were  jealous  because  they  could  never 
be  first  with  their  husbands,  but  had  to  wait  for 
the  men's  notice,  and  to  be  set  aside  and  left  behind 
when  the  Lord's  work  called. 

It  is  not  argued  that  the  women  had  no  provoca- 
tion, only  that  they  should  have  counted  the  cost 
before  they  married  such  men.  John  Wesley,  in 
his  goodness,  was  a  man  of  adamant  alike  to  himself 
and  to  all  connected  with  him.  Whitefield,  much 
more  impressionable,  thought  nothing  of  making 
four  voyages  to  Georgia  after  the  date  of  his 
marriage,  in  none  of  which  did  Mrs.  Whitefield 

91 


THE  COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

accompany  him.  His  absences  lasted  for  years 
at  a  time,  and  every  penny  he  collected  went  to 
his  orphanage. 

Mrs.  Whitefield  showed  herself  occasionally  not 
incapable  of  rising  to  his  level.  He  would  call  her 
his  "  right  hand  ;  "  he  missed  her  sorely  when  she 
died.  He  was  fond  of  quoting  an  anecdote  of  her. 
In  a  brutal  crowd,  when  even  his  heart  began  to 
faint,  and  he  was  on  the  point  of  being  stoned, 
Mrs.  Whitefield  standing  behind  him  plucked  him 
by  the  cloak  and  charged  him  :  "  George,  play 
the  man  for  your  God,"  when  his  waning  courage 
returned  in  a  twinkHng. 

But,  unfortunately,  she  was  not  always  of  this 
mind,  and  Whitefield's  impulsive  generosity  was 
not  enough  to  bridge  the  gulf  between  them. 
And  in  neither  of  the  two  shifting  households  were 
there  children  to  serve  as  a  bond  which  could  not 
be  broken.  No  child  was  born  to  John  Wesley, 
and  Whitefield's  single  descendant,  the  son  on 
whom  he  formed  so  many  ardent  hopes,  died  in 
infancy. 

It  was  far  otherwise  in  the  marriage  of  Charles 
Wesley.  Mrs.  Charles  Wesley,  unlike  her  sister- 
in-law,  was  a  happy  wife  and  mother.  She  was 
Sarah  Gwynne,  a  daughter  of  Gwynne  of  Garth, 
a  squire  of  long  descent  and  considerable  property 
in  Brecknockshire.  .  In  her  own  person  she  was 

92 


^x-ww^^"^ 


■::.-i».:;i:^s^ 


CHARLES    WESLEY 


MRS.   CHARLES   WESLEY 

not  only  a  good  woman,  she  was  a  well-bred  and 
amiable  lady.  Lady  Huntingdon  and  she  were 
intimate  and  attached  friends  from  the  beginning 
of  their  acquaintance. 

About  1752,  Charles  Wesley  was  settled,  so  far 
as  he  was  suffered  to  be  settled,  with  his  wife  and 
child  in  a  house  in  Bristol,  and  in  Bristol  was  one 
of  the  Countess's  tabernacles. 

Further,  in  connection  with  its  Hot  Wells,  the 
town  stood  next  to  Bath  in  the  estimation  of  the 
real  or  fancied  invalids  of  the  time,  to  whom 
mineral  waters  offered  a  panacea  for  all  the  ills 
that  flesh  is  heir  to.  Lady  Huntingdon,  like  the 
rest  of  her  generation,  with  more  reason  than  most 
of  the  visitors  in  her  indifferent  and  often  failing 
health,  was  after  her  widowhood  a  frequent 
resident  at  one  or  other  of  these  watering-places. 
When  she  had  the  additional  attraction  of  one  of 
her  chapels  to  superintend,  her  presence  for  longer 
or  shorter  intervals  could  be  still  more  counted 
upon. 

But,  apart  from  either  benefit  to  her  health  or 
advantage  to  her  chapel,  there  were  imperative 
reasons  for  her  journeying  to  Bristol  at  this  time. 
The  Wesley  family  were  in  distressing  circum- 
stances, and  she  could  do  nothing  else  than  hasten 
to  their  assistance  and  do  her  best  to  relieve  them 
at  whatever  risk  or  discomfort  to  herself. 

93 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

John  Wesley's  iron  constitution  had  broken 
down  for  a  time  under  the  tremendous  strain  put 
upon  it.  He  was  at  Lewisham,  sent  there  by  his 
doctors  to  the  quaint  house  with  the  semblance  of 
rams'  horns  as  ornaments  on  each  side  of  the  gate. 
Rest  and  refreshment  from  the  country  air  of  the 
village  were  thought  his  last  chance  for  recovery. 
He  was  so  ill  that  his  death  was  freely  anticipated, 
and  his  brother  Charles  was  summoned  from 
Bristol  to  take  the  ordering  of  the  churches,  and 
to  receive  John's  last  instructions. 

As  if  this  were  not  calamity  enough  to  his  grow- 
ing societies  and  the  multitude  looking  to  him  for 
heavenly  guidance,  and  to  the  family  of  which  he 
was  the  ostensible  head,  down  in  Bristol  Mrs. 
Charles  Wesley  was  stricken  with  smallpox,  and 
lay  in  great  suffering  and  danger  for  many  days, 
while  her  husband  could  not  come  to  her  without 
deserting  his  post  and  abandoning  his  public  duties. 

One  can  imagine  how  the  word  "  Smallpox  " 
sounded  in  Lady  Huntingdon's  ears,  how  it  re- 
called her  two  fine  boys,  George  and  Ferdinando, 
cut  down  in  their  fresh,  blooming  youth,  what  had 
been  their  pleasant  comeUness  rendered  loathsome 
to  look  upon,  and  dying  within  little  more  than  a 
day  of  each  other. 

But  their  mother  did  not  hesitate  a  moment. 
She  set  out  instantly  from  Bath,  where  she  had  been 

94 


A  BRAVE   NURSE 

staying,  when  she  heard  the  grievous  news;  one 
can  guess,  forbidding  her  young  daughter,  Lady 
Selina,  to  accompany  her  or  follow  her,  she  made 
her  way  to  the  infected  house  in  Bristol,  where  she 
could  be  a  pillar  of  strength  to  the  scared  inmates, 
assuming  the  responsibility  of  chief  nurse,  so  that 
everything  which  could  be  done  was  tried  for  the 
patient,  cheering  and  strengthening  her  by  Lady 
Huntingdon's  unshaken  faith  in  the  Father  of  us 
all  doing  His  best  for  His  helpless  creatures.  She 
communicated  daily  bulletins  to  the  husband  in 
the  anguish  of  his  absence  and  suspense. 

She  did  more ;  she  sent  for  Whitefield  and 
commissioned  him  to  go  to  London  and  reheve 
Charles  Wesley,  so  that  he  might  come  to  Bristol 
once  again  and  see  his  wife — before,  what 
seemed  more  than  probable,  she  should  be  called 
from  his  side — while  this  Hfe  lasted. 

There  had  been  disputes,  rivalry,  and  something 
of  hostihty  between  Whitefield  and  the  WWeys, 
upholding  as  they  did  different  conceptions  of  the 
glory  and  the  will  of  the  same  divine  Master. 
But  there  could  be  no  abiding  gall  in  these  good 
and  honest  hearts.  What  were  the  differences  of 
interpretation  which  had  arisen  between  them,  in 
one  of  these  seasons  of  adversity  for  which  brothers 
are  born,  when  humanity  thinks  only  of  what 
alleviation  it  can  afford  ? 

95 


THE   COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

Whitefield  put  all  his  big  heart  into  his  mission — 
not  the  less  so  that  between  two  of  the  flying  visits 
which  his  presence  in  London  enabled  Charles 
Wesley  to  pay  to  Bristol,  Wesley's  first-born  child, 
a  promising  little  boy  of  not  yet  two  years,  sick- 
ened of  the  same  disease  under  which  his  mother 
appeared  to  be  lying  in  extremity,  and  died — as 
Baby  John  Whitefield  had  died — in  the  absence  of 
his  father^  and  in  Wesley's  case  he  had  not  even 
the  comfort  of  helping  to  lay  his  son  with  words 
of  prayer  in  the  churchyard  which  is  God's 
Garden. 

Whitefield,  in  the  middle  of  his  press  of  work, 
penned  letter  after  letter  of  tender  sympathy  to 
his  fellow-sufferer  :  "I  cannot  remember  anything 
now  but  dear  Mrs.  Wesley,"  Whitefield  wrote  to 
Charles  Wesley  in  his  warm  friendliness.  "  Night 
and  day  you  are  remembered  by  me." 

At  last  Lady  Huntingdon  had  the  joy  of  com- 
municating the  glad  intelligence,  after  Mrs.  Charles 
Wesley  had  lain  twenty-two  days  in  great  danger, 
that  the  peril  was  past,  and  there  was  every 
prospect  of  the  loved  and  loving  wife's  recovery. 
Whitefield  immediately  returned  a  public  thanks- 
giving in  his  tabernacle  for  the  mercy  which  had 
been  shown  his  friends. 

Mrs.  Charles  Wesley  was  not  only  restored  to 
health,  she  lived  a  long  life,  survived  her  husband, 

96 


GRACE   MURRAY 

and  died  at  the  great  age  of  ninety-six,  thirty-one 
years  after  her  old  friend  Lady  Huntingdon  had 
passed  away. 

Man  proposes  but  God  disposes.  Surely  John 
Wesley's  experience  of  matrimony  would  have 
been  very  different  had  he  married  the  gifted 
woman  his  heart  desired.  She  was  another 
widow,  but  a  widow  with  qualities  widely  removed 
from  those  of  the  lady  who  became  Mrs.  John 
Wesley. 

Lady  Huntingdon  could  only  have  been  ac- 
quainted with  Grace  Murray — as  she  was  best 
known — when  she  was  the  wife,  not  of  John 
Wesley,  alas  !  but  of  another  of  the  Countess's 
friends,  Mr.  Bennett,  of  Derbyshire. 

Bennett  had  early  cast  in  his  lot  with  the  Oxford 
reformers.  He  had  shown  a  keen  personal  interest 
in  their  work,  had  been  invited  by  Lady  Hunting- 
don to  pay  a  visit  to  Donnington  Park,  and  had 
been  urged  by  her  to  become  one  of  the  army  of 
preachers — in  accordance  with  his  views  and  his 
powers,  instead  of  carrying  his  abilities  and  his 
superior  education  into  another  profession.  Finally 
she  introduced  him  to  John  Wesley  and  to  White- 
field.  Bennett  started  work  under  the  first, 
though  his  leanings  were  to  Whitefield  and  Cal- 
vinism. But  it  was  not  till  the  Bennetts — both 
husband     and      wife — had      broken     off      from 

97 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

Wesley  and  joined  the  Calvinistic  Methodists 
that  they  came  repeatedly  into  the  old  famihar 
neighbourhood  of  Donnington  Park. 

Grace  Murray  had  begun  hfe  as  Grace  Norman. 
She  was  born  at  Newcastle-on-Tyne  in  1715,  and 
was  the  daughter  of  parents,  members  of  the 
Church  of  England,  in  affluent  circumstances,  and 
belonging  to  an  upper  class  of  society.  They  were 
able  to  give  their  children  the  best  education  of 
the  time,  and  to  introduce  them  into  what  were 
reckoned  the  polite  circles  of  the  day. 

A  precocious,  susceptible  child,  even  as  she  was 
an  animated,  sympathetic  woman,  little  Grace 
seems  to  have  undergone  religious  experiences  and 
worldly  reactions  at  an  extraordinarily  early  age. 
The  reactionary  forces  reached  their  height  in  her 
early  girlhood,  when  she  developed  a  passion  for 
dancing  which  she  declared  "  had  nearly  cost  her 
her  life  "  (her  spiritual  life). 

The  rebound  from  this  very  volatile  mood  of 
mind  came  soon,  and  with  such  violence,  that 
though  she  went  through  other  reactions  from 
Methodism,  she  would  never  again  indulge  in  the 
amusement. 

While  still  Grace  Norman,  she  became  so  con- 
vinced a  young  Methodist  that  her  father,  who  held 
other  opinions,  told  her  he  could  not  permit  her 
to  remain  a  member  of  his  household  unless  she 

98 


GRACE   MURRAY'S  CONVERSION 

promised  not  to  influence  her  brothers  in  the 
rehgious  controversies  which  were  raging  through- 
out the  country.  She  could  not  give  the  promise, 
therefore  while  still  a  girl  not  out  of  her  teens  she 
had  to  leave  her  family,  and  live  in  lodgings  not 
far  from  her  home,  doubtless  that  the  parental 
eye  might  still  be  upon  her,  while  her  firmness  was 
subjected  to  the  severe  test  imposed  upon  it. 

The  narrative  of  this  experience  impHes  either 
that  her  father,  who  had  by  no  means  cast  her  off, 
supplied  her  with  an  allowance,  or  that  she  was 
already  in  possession  of  an  independent  income 
from  other  sources. 

She  was  in  the  habit  of  going  home  at  intervals 
for  part  of  the  day,  but  had  always  to  go  back 
to  her  lodgings  before  evening.  In  recalling  the 
occurrence,  she  remarks  on  the  pain  and  mortifica- 
tion with  which  she  got  up  to  quit  the  rest  of  the 
family  like  somebody  in  disgrace  paying  a  penalty. 

The  experiment  surely  had  the  effect  the  astute 
father  desired.  At  least,  by  the  time  Grace  at 
twenty-one  years  of  age  married,  with  her  parents' 
consent,  a  sailor  named  Murray,  she  had  re-entered 
society,  "  returned  to  the  world,"  in  the  accepted 
phrase,  in  which  her  intelHgence,  sprightUness  and 
musical  gifts,  in  the  shape  of  an  exceedingly 
melodious  voice,  rendered  her  a  favourite. 

Of  the  great  attachment  of  her  husband  there 

99 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

could  not  be  two  thoughts  ;  his  existence  when  on 
shore  seemed  to  be  bound  up  in  hers,  while  she, 
in  the  thoughtlessness  of  the  moment,  in  the 
spoiUng  of  her  naturally  fine  disposition  caused  by 
the  flattering  preference  given  her  by  the  giddy, 
unreflecting  company  she  frequented,  returned 
the  affection  by  little  more  than  the  obliging 
complaisance  of  a  petted,  gay  young  wife. 

Grace  was  reminded  of  her  earlier  higher  aspira- 
tions by  the  time  she  had  become  a  mother,  when 
an  illness  of  Mr.  Murray's  called  her  to  Portsmouth, 
where  she  and  her  child  of  fourteen  months  joined 
him  and  stayed  with  him  for  six  weeks. 

"  We  boarded  with  a  widow  lady  who  had  two 
daughters,"  she  wrote  afterwards.  "  Thrice  every 
day  she  passed  by  my  room  with  her  books  under 
her  arm  and  her  daughters  with  her  to  retire  into 
her  room  for  prayers.  This  struck  me  in  such  a 
manner  that  I  wished  to  do  as  she  did.  Oh  !  the 
goodness  of  God  ;  it  shamed  me  that  I  should 
have  had  to  be  brought  thither  to  learn  to  pray. 
Yes,  I  believe  I  began  to  pray  in  the  spirit  in  that 
house.  The  Lord  fastened  something  in  my  mind 
there  which  I  could  never  shake  off." 

After  she  went  to  London  with  her  husband,  her 
mind  was  further  wrought  on.  "  When  we  re- 
turned to  London,"  she  noted,  "  all  the  place  rang 
with    the    fame    of    Mr.    Whitefield,    who    had 

100 


A   FIELD-PREACHER 

introduced  the  practice  of  field-preaching.  *  Poor 
gentleman  !  he  is  out  of  his  mind,'  was  the  general 
comment.  He  continued  to  blow  the  Gospel 
trumpet  all  over  London.  I  wished  to  hear  him, 
but  Mr.  Murray  would  not  consent." 

When  her  husband  went  to  sea  again,  her  child 
sickened  and  died.  "  Near  to  the  end,"  was  the 
mother's  description  of  the  scene,  "  I,  having  a  book 
of  prayer,  sought  a  prayer  in  it  for  a  departing 
soul.  I  was  constrained  to  kneel  down  and  give 
up  the  soul  of  my  child  into  the  hands  of  God. 

"  This  amazed  my  sister.  .  .  .  After  the 
funeral  I  was  brought  into  such  lowness  of  spirits 
I  could  rest  nowhere.  ...  I  ran  to  my  sister 
saying,  '  I  do  not  know  what  is  the  matter  with 
me,  but  I  think  it  is  my  soul.' 

"  *  Your  soul !  '  she  repHed,  *  you  are  good 
enough  for  yourself  and  me  too.* 

"  A  young  person  in  our  neighbourhood,  having 
heard  of  my  distress,  sent  me  word  she  was  going 
to  Blackheath  to  hear  Mr.  Whitefield,  and  would 
be  glad  of  my  company.  Accordingly  I  went 
with  her,  and  before  we  reached  the  place  heard 
the  people  singing  hymns.  The  very  sound  set 
all  my  passions  afloat,  which  showed  how  the 
affections  may  be  moved  while  the  understanding 
is  dark." 

The  spot  where  Whitefield  stood  when  he  spoke 

101 

8— (a3<io) 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

is  still  pointed  out.  It  is  a  rising  ground  about 
the  centre  of  the  Heath,  bearing  two  or  three  old 
Scotch  fir  trees.  It  is  situated  nearly  opposite  the 
gate  of  Greenwich  Park. 

"Mr.  Whitefield  drove  up  in  a  chaise,"  Grace 
Murray  remembered,  and  she  was  at  once  struck 
by  his  appearance  and  still  more  impressed  by  his 
eloquent  sermon. 

Her  views  grew  more  and  more  decided.  She 
was  no  longer  a  girl  in  her  teens  to  be  turned  aside 
from  her  convictions  by  the  disapproval  of  her 
friends.  Not  only  was  she  unmoved  by  the  lack 
of  sympathy  in  her  sister,  who  complained  that 
she  no  longer  cared  to  go  into  company  with 
Grace,  because  in  the  room  of  the  old  vivacity 
which  had  charmed  her  friends  she  now  sat  silent 
and  cold  like  a  stone  ;  she  was  prepared  to  resist 
the  passionate  remonstrances  of  her  husband. 
When  told  by  his  sister-in-law  that  Grace  had 
gone  melancholy  with  attending  Methodist  meet- 
ings, he  forbade  her  to  go  to  them  any  more.  She 
might  repair  to  church  when  and  where  she  chose, 
but  she  must  forsake  the  Methodist  assembhes. 

When  the  young  wife — only  accustomed  to 
praise  and  indulgence  from  him — resisted  his 
authority,  he  threatened  as  what  appeared  to  him 
the  only  resource  left,  to  put  her  into  a  madhouse. 
He  even  named  the  person  to  whose  custody  he 

102 


GRACE   MURRAY'S   METHODISTIC   WORK 

would  send  her,  ending  with  the  really  pathetic 
appeal :  What  should  he  do — he  to  whom  she  was 
so  much  ? 

An  illness  on  her  part  broke  him  down.  He 
first  told  her  to  send  for  the  clergyman  of  the 
parish,  and  then  yielded  entirely,  "  My  dear,  send 
for  anyone  you  hke." 

The  death  of  poor  Murray  at  sea,  on  one  of  his 
next  voyages,  while  it  would  awaken  his  widow, 
being  the  woman  she  was,  to  the  value  of  the  regard 
she  had  held  but  lightly,  and  smite  her  with  tender 
regrets,  w^as  also  calculated  to  confirm  her  most 
serious  convictions.  She  became  from  that  time 
resolute  in  her  profession  and  a  conspicuous  figure 
among  the  Wesley ans.  Whether  her  father  was 
no  longer  alive  or  had  given  up  in  despair  any 
further  efforts  to  control  her,  she  now  acted 
for  herself,  and  took  a  prominent  part  in  the 
organisation  of  the  church  John  Wesley  was 
founding. 

He  entrusted  her  with  the  forming  of  his  female 
societies,  and  for  this  purpose  she  journeyed 
through  different  parts  of  England  and  Ireland. 
In  connection  with  these  societies,  and  with  the 
circuits  he  was  arranging,  he  had  houses  in  various 
quarters  to  which  Wesleyan  members  and 
ministers  retired,  when  it  was  advisable,  for  rest 
and  refreshment.      Grace    Murray  presided  over 

103 


THE  COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

a  succession  of  these  houses,  a  position  which  she 
was  eminently  quaUfied  to  fill. 

She  was  at  once  devout  and  social,  imaginative 
and  practical.  She  was  decidedly  intellectual,  as 
well  as  reUgious,  loving  reading  of  all  kinds,  of 
history  and  poetry,  as  well  as  of  books  of  devotion, 
and  she  was  musical  withal.  She  was  very  attrac- 
tive in  conversation,  made  to  guide  it,  and  to  open 
up  stores  of  interest  for  others — a  clever,  bright, 
genial  woman,  not  less  than  a  good  one,  with  a 
heart  in  its  right  place,  so  as  to  render  her  friendly 
to  all  with  whom  she  came  in  contact.  There  is 
no  doubt  that  John  Wesley  admired  her  and  held 
her  in  high  esteem.  The  impression  among  their 
contemporaries  must  have  been  strong  to  have 
spread  so  widely  and  survived  so  long  that  he  had 
hoped  to  have  made  her  his  wife. 

But  either  his  affection  was  kept  too  hidden  from 
its  object,  or  else,  while  she  honoured  and  rever- 
enced him  as  a  leader,  the  idea  of  the  man  so  sternly 
unbending  in  his  principles  and  practice,  was 
repellent  to  her  as  a  lover  and  husband. 

The  story  goes  that  John  Wesley  received  an 
unexpected  blow  when  he  read  in  a  newspaper  the 
announcement  of  her  marriage  in  1749,  to  Bennett, 
of  Derby,  one  of  his  own  young  preachers,  to  whom 
he  had  been  induced  by  Lady  Huntingdon  to  lend 
his  support,  and  to  give  some  employment. 

104 


GRACE  MURRAY'S   MARRIAGE 

It  is  said  that  Bennett  and  Grace  Murray  first 
met  and  were  afterwards  thrown  together  in  sin- 
gular and  striking  circumstances.  One  of  these 
was  the  incident  of  her  having  been  called  upon  to 
nurse  him  through  a  severe  illness — and  he  was 
worthy.  He  was  one  of  the  most  enthusiastic  and 
self-sacrificing  of  these  reforming  preachers,  count- 
ing no  toil  too  great,  no  exhausting  effort  beyond 
his  bestowal,  so  that  it  was  made  to  gain  souls.  In 
the  end  he  shortened  his  life  by  his  Christian 
heroism. 

Grace  Murray  was  in  her  thirty-fifth  year  at  the 
date  of  her  second  marriage,  four  years  after  the 
second  Scotch  Rebellion,  when  she  had  been  in 
one  of  the  Wesleyan  houses  in  Newcastle-on-Tyne, 
and  Charles  Wesley,  who  had  been  paying  the 
house  a  visit,  warned  them  on  his  departure  : 
"  You  will  see  the  man  on  the  red  horse,  and  the 
man  on  the  pale  horse  "  (war  and  death)  "  before 
we  meet  again."  And  so  it  was  :  civil  war  with 
much  loss  of  Hfe  had  been  at  their  doors,  but  the 
storm  had  blown  over,  and  there  was  marrying 
and  giving  in  marriage  again. 

John  Wesley  behaved  with  the  magnanimity 
which  might  have  been  expected  from  him.  He 
promoted  Bennett's  usefulness  and  success  by  all 
the  means  in  his  power,  until  the  fortunate  rival, 
having  been  always  more  under  the  influence  of 

105 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

Whitefield  than  of  Wesley,  publicly  separated 
from  Wesley  at  Bolton  and  joined  the  ranks  of 
the  Calvinistic  Methodists,  carrying  his  wife  with 
him.  This  was  another  stab  to  John  Wesley,  the 
weapon  which  dealt  it  being  made  of  blended 
metal. 

The  itinerating  service  of  the  Wesleyans  was  also 
in  force  with  Whitefield  and  his  followers,  and  after 
his  marriage  Bennett  was  in  the  habit  of  continuing 
circuits  so  extensive  in  distance  as  to  include  two 
hundred  miles  in  the  fortnight.  He  was  accom- 
panied by  his  wife,  who  led  the  women's  classes 
until  the  cares  of  her  increasing  family  (she  bore 
him  five  sons)  rendered  it  impossible  for  her  either 
to  leave  the  little  flock  or  to  take  them  with 
her. 

Then  a  settled  charge  was  found  and  a  chapel 
erected  for  him  at  Warburton,  in  Cheshire,  but  he 
went  on  preaching  tours  to  the  last.  Ten  years 
went  by  ;  the  eldest  of  Grace's  five  boys  was  not 
eight  years  of  age,  she  herself  was  in  her  forty- 
fifth  year  in  1759,  when  Bennett,  who  had  been 
attacked  with  jaundice,  in  addition  to  loss  of  blood 
from  an  accidental  wound  in  the  leg,  after  thirty- 
six  weeks  of  suffering,  lay  dying.  She  asked  him  if 
his  faith  supported  him  and  if  God's  promises  to 
His  servants  were  being  fulfilled.  He  answered 
her   in   the    affirmative,    joyfully,    triumphantly. 

106 


GRACE   BENNETT'S  WIDOWHOOD 

They  kissed  each  other,  and  his  last  words  were 

"  Sing,  sing." 

She  stayed  on  in  the  quiet  country  house  tor 
some  time.  She  had  enough  left  of  her  worldly 
possessions  to  rear  her  children  and  to  dispense 
the  hospitality  which  was  natural  to  her.  The 
preachers  who  came  to  officiate  in  her  late 
husband's  stead  were  entertained  by  her,  while 
the  neighbours  were  invited  to  meet  them,  to 
profit  by  their  discourse. 

For  the  sake  of  her  children  she  quitted  the 
country,  and  settled  in  the  little  town  of  Chapel- 
en-le-Frith.  She  still  had  her  class  every  week 
and  her  meeting  of  the  neighbours  for  prayer 
and  improving  conversation. 

But  she  was  certainly  not  a  rich  woman.  She 
was  accustomed  to  do  everything  for  her  children, 
several  of  whom  died  in  early  youth  ;  indeed,  so 
far  as  can  be  gathered,  only  one  son  remained  to 
her  in  her  decUning  years. 

With  the  advance  of  age  she  became  partially 
blind,  a  great  deprivation  to  her,  though  she  was 
never  without  those  who  loved  her,  and  would  fain 
have  helped  her  by  reading  to  her,  as  by  rendering 
her  other  service.  But  she,  who  had  so  long 
and  faithfully  searched  the  famiUar  Scriptures, 
mourned  at  being  reduced  to  memory  where  they 
were  concerned,  or  tojeceiving  them  from  the  hps 

107 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

of  others.  She  would  rejoice  when  a  brighter  day 
or  a  less  dim  vision  would  let  her  have  a  glimmering 
sense  of  the  contents  of  the  pages,  as  she  turned 
them  over. 

In  connection  with  her  son  she  desired  to  see 
John  Wesley  again  when  he  should  be  in  her  vicin- 
ity. He  came  readily  in  response  to  her  request 
in  the  company  of  a  friend  who  knew  them  both, 
who  beheved  that  he  was  acquainted  with  the 
depth  of  disappointment  which  Grace  Murray's 
marriage  to  Bennett  had  been  to  John  Wesley. 

But  all  these  things,  with  any  trace  of  surviving 
emotion,  were  long  past  on  the  part  of  the  old 
couple — the  woman,  aged  and  blind,  advancing 
with  uncertain  steps — the  sight  gone  from  the  once 
bright  eyes,  so  that  she  could  no  longer  look  on  the 
face  of  the  great  man  who  had  loved  her  in  vain, 
who  was  still  splendid  in  the  retention  to  his  last 
breath  of  the  noble  faculties — supreme  self-control 
not  the  least  of  them,  which  had  stirred  all 
England. 

The  interview  was  short,  its  purport  apparently 
unknown  to  the  single  witness,  and  it  was  never 
afterwards  alluded  to  by  John  Wesley.  But  one 
is  certain  that,  if  compliance  with  any  solicitation 
of  Grace  Bennett's  were  within  his  power,  it  was 
freely  granted. 

Grace    outlived   Bennett   by    forty-five    years, 

108 


BERRIDGE   OF   EVERTON 

dying  after  a  short  illness  at  the  age  of  eighty- 
nine  in  1803,  when  she  had  made  her  good  confes- 
sion in  the  final  words,  "  Glory  be  to  Thee,  my  God, 
peace  Thou  givest  me." 

Among  the  men  who  held  Lady  Huntingdon's 
tenets,  whom  she  assisted  in  every  possible  way, 
Countess  Selina  had  many  tried  and  trusted 
friends,  whose  biographies,  sermons,  letters,  etc., 
etc.,  have  been  preserved  by  like-minded  and 
competent  chroniclers  for  the  public  to  study  in 
later  generations.  This  is  the  fact  where  such 
household  names  as  those  of  the  Wesleys,  White- 
field,  Fletcher  of  Madeley,  etc.,  etc.,  are  in 
question.  Even  lesser  Ughts  Hke  Romaine,  Venn, 
Rowland  Hill,  etc.,  have  been  similarly  treated  in 
their  own  persons  and  in  their  works,  so  that  they 
are  well  known,  and  there  is  nothing  more  to  say 
of  them. 

There  is  only  one  quaint,  highly  original  figure 
who  seems  to  have  received  less  than  his  due  in  the 
prejudiced  eyes  of  Southey  and  in  the  records  of 
his  time.  This  is  Berridge  of  Everton,  one  of  the 
most  confided  in  and  rehed  upon  of  Lady  Hunting- 
don's aUies,  to  whom  she  turned  readily  for  counsel, 
one  who  did  not  hesitate  to  express  his  disapproval 
and  argue  against  the  probable  prospects  of  her 
favourite  schemes  when  they  did  not  commend 
themselves  to  his  judgment.     On  the  other  hand, 

109 


THE  COUNTESS   OF  HUNTINGDON 

he  was  a  man  who  could  handsomely  take  back  his 
word  and  strongly  uphold  her  enterprises  when 
the  result  proved  that  his  estimates  had  been 
wrong. 

Among  the  many  good  and  godly  men  who 
surrounded  her,  worked  at  her  instigation,  and 
brought  her  projects  to  a  triumphant  conclusion, 
Berridge,  like  Glazebrook,  the  first  collier-student 
at  her  college  of  Trevecca,  possessed  in  a  high 
degree  the  saving  grace  of  humour. 

In  the  correspondence  of  the  time,  so  heavily 
weighed  with  solemn,  stereotyped  language,  his 
letters  stand  out  in  their  spontaneity  and  raciness, 
and  call  forth  a  smile  even  when  they  deal  with 
the  most  serious  subjects.  It  is  characteristic  of 
the  religious  crisis  during  which  he  lived  that  such 
a  temper,  with  its  burlesque  sarcasm,  was  looked 
upon  in  the  light  of  a  perilous  gift  abounding  in 
snares  and  pitfalls.  Berridge  gravely  warned 
Glazebrook  of  the  danger  which  he  himself  ought 
to  have  known  well  to  the  cause  of  evangelical 
truth  of  indulging  in  enemy-making  in  the  practice 
of  such  wit,  but  nature  was  too  strong  for  the  man. 
His  comparison  of  his  parishioners  to  a  hive  of  bees 
is  an  illustration  to  the  point. 

"  As  for  myself,  I  am  now  determined  not  to 
quit  my  charge  again  in  a  hurry,"  he  wrote  in 
declining  an  invitation  from  Lady  Huntingdon  to 

110 


A   CHARACTERISTIC   LETTER 

take  the  service  in  one  of  her  chapels.  "  Never 
do  I  leave  my  bees,  though  for  a  short  space  only, 
but  at  my  return  I  find  them  either  casting  a 
colony  or  fighting  and  robbing  each  other  ;  not 
gathering  honey  from  every  flower  in  God's  garden, 
but  fining  the  air  with  their  buzzing,  and  darting 
out  the  venom  of  their  httle  hearts  in  their  fiery 
stings.  Nay,  so  inflamed  they  often  are,  and  a 
mighty  httle  thing  disturbs  them,  that  three 
months'  tinkering  afterwards  with  a  warming-pan 
will  scarce  hive  them  at  last  and  make  them  settle 
to  work  again." 

Still  more  like  Berridge  is  a  letter  written  by 
him  to  Lady  Huntingdon  on  the  occasion  of  one  of 
her  sore  bereavements  : — 

"  My  Lady, — I  received  your  letter  from  Bright- 
helmstone,  and  hope  you  will  soon  learn  to  bless 
your  Redeemer  for  snatching  away  your  daughter 
so  speedily.  ...  Oh  !  what  is  she  snatched  from  ? 
Why,  truly  from  the  plague  of  an  evil  heart,  a 
wicked  world,  and  a  crafty  devil — snatched  from 
all  such  bitter  grief  as  now  overwhelms  you, 
snatched  from  everything  which  might  wound  her, 
afflict  her  eye,  or  pain  her  heart.  And  what  is  she 
snatched  to  ?  To  a  land  of  everlasting  peace, 
where  the  voice  of  the  turtle  is  ever  heard,  where 
every  inhabitant  can  say,  *  I  am  no  more  sick.' 
No  more  whim  in  the  head,  no  more  plague  in  the 
heart.  .  .  .  Madam,  what  would  you  have  ?  Is 
it  not  better  to  sing  in  heaven,  "  Worthy  is  the 

Hi 


THE  COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

Lamb  that  was  slain/  than  crying  at  Oathall,  *  Oh  ! 
wretched  woman  that  I  am.'  Is  it  not  better  for 
her  to  go  before  than  to  stay  after  you,  and  then 
to  be  lamenting,  '  Oh  !  my  mother/  as  you  now 
lament,  '  Oh  !  my  daughter  ?  '  Is  it  not  better 
to  have  your  Selina  taken  to  heaven  than  to  have 
your  heart  divided  between  Christ  and  Selina  ? 
If  she  was  a  silver  idol  before,  might  she  not  have 
proved  a  golden  one  afterwards  ? 

"  She  is  gone  to  pay  a  most  blessed  visit,  and  will 
see  you  again  by  and  bye,  never  to  part  more. 
Had  she  crossed  the  sea  and  gone  to  Ireland/'  (to 
her  sister,  Countess  Moira)  "  you  could  have  borne 
it ;  but  now  she  is  gone  to  heaven  'tis  almost 
unbearable. 

"  Wonderful  strange  love  this  !  Such  behaviour 
in  others  would  not  surprise  me,  but  I  could  almost 
beat  you  for  it ;  and  I  am  sure  Sehna  would  beat 
you  too,  if  she  was  called  back  for  one  moment 
from  heaven  to  gratify  your  fond  desire.  I 
cannot  soothe  you,  and  I  must  not  flatter  you. 
I  am  glad  the  dear  creature  is  gone  to  heaven 
before  you.  Lament  if  you  please,  but  glory, 
glory,  glory  be  to  God,  say  I — 

"John  Berridge." 

Berridge  was  strongly  opposed  to  the  marriage 
of  the  young  Methodist  clergy.  He  declared  that 
those  who  would  try  it  had  been  punished  for  their 
folly.  He  maintained  that  Charles  Wesley  had 
been  spoilt  for  his  work  by  his  happy  marriage,  and 
that  as  for  Charles's  brother  John,  and  George 
Whitefield,  they  were  only  saved  from  making 

112 


BERRIDGE   ON   CELIBACY 

shipwreck  of  the  cause  by  God's  sending  them  "  a 
pair  of  ferrets  "  for  wives. 

Berridge's  account  of  the  warnings  which  he 
himself  received  against  entering  the  holy  state  of 
matrimony,  to  which  he  was  tempted  by  "  Jezebels 
of  housekeepers,"  who  drove  him  to  seek  to  pene- 
trate into  the  future  by  inserting  his  finger  at 
random  into  the  Scriptures  and  accepting  as  a 
token  of  the  Almighty's  will  the  verse  which  he 
touched,  is  whimsical  in  the  extreme. 

In  spite  of  Berridge's  great  regard  for  Lady 
Huntingdon  and  hearty  attachment  to  her,  women 
in  general  were  his  betes  noires,  and  his  chief  wish 
and  hope  for  promising  young  divines  were  that 
they  should  be  kept  from  "  petticoats." 


113 


CHAPTER  VII 

Lady  Huntingdon's  Three  Famous  Interviews — With  Garrick  in  the 
Green  Room  of  Drury  Lane  to  Remonstrate  on  the  Gross  Libel 
of  Whitefield  as  "  Doctor  Squintum  "  in  the  Play  of  the  Minor — 
Garrick's  Courtesy — Her  Interview  with  Cornwallis,  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  and  Mrs.  Cornwallis,  in  their  Palace  of  Lambeth — The 
Scandal  of  their  Dissipation — Rude  Rebuff  and  Dismissal — Lady 
Huntingdon's  Interview  with  King  George  and  Queen  Charlotte  in 
their  Palace  of  Kew — Gracious  Reception  and  Attention  to  her 
Protest — The  Honest  Old  King — "  Good  Queen  Charlotte  " — The 
King's  Indignant  Letter  of  Rebuke  to  the  Archbishop. 

The  first  interview  was  that  between  the  Queen 
of  the  Methodists  and  the  King  of  the  Stage, 
David  Garrick.  Imagine  Lady  Huntingdon  in 
the  green  room  at  Drury  Lane  !  Yet  she  went 
there  to  appeal  to  Garrick  on  behalf  of  Whitefield, 
who  had  been  grossly  lampooned  in  a  play  called 
"  The  Minor,"  the  work  of  the  great  mimic  Foote, 
who  himself  sustained  the  principal  part,  "  Doctor 
Squintum "  (Whitefield),  whose  gestures,  tones, 
etc.,  the  actor  gave  to  the  life,  a  role  in  which  the 
famous  preacher  was  defamed  as  a  religious  quack 
and  adventurer,  and  a  rogue  of  the  basest  descrip- 
tion. The  whole  play,  in  its  unfair  and  scandalous 
attack  on  Whitefield  and  the  Methodists  generally, 
was  so  irreverent  and  immoral  that  it  was  indig- 
nantly condemned  as  an  outrage  on  public  decency 
by  authorities  who  had  neither  connection  with 
the  victims  nor  sympathy  with  their  opinions. 
But  in  the  meantime  it  had  been  put  on  the  stage 

114 


THE  COUNTESS  AND  GAKRICK 

of  Drury  Lane,  was  drawing  great  houses,  and 
making  much  money  for  the  theatre  funds. 

Lady  Huntingdon  had  already  appealed  to  the 
Lord  Chamberlain,  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  who 
declared  that  he  had  not  known  the  nature  of  the 
play  when  a  license  was  granted  for  it,  but  the 
license  having  been  given  he  could  do  nothing. 

The  Countess  then  addressed  herself  to  Garrick, 
going  to  Drury  Lane  to  get  speech  with  him. 

The  actor,  in  his  blue  coat  and  scratch  wig, 
received  her  hke  the  gentleman  he  was,  treating 
her  with  the  greatest  honour  and  courtesy. 

She  pled  with  temperance  and  moderation  the 
injury  which  was  being  done  to  his  own  profession 
and  to  those  who  supported  it  by  such  low  and 
scurrilous  plays  as  "  The  Minor."  He  would 
degrade  the  drama  which  she  did  not  deny  many 
respectable  people  approved  of,  and  from  which 
they  declared  they  derived  profit,  as  well  as 
pleasure,  the  drama  which  his  fine  acting  had 
helped  to  render  illustrious.  It  would  be  doing  it 
an  ill  service  to  let  it  sink  till  it  became  the  vehicle 
of  the  vilest  aspersions  against  an  innocent  man, 
and  a  set  of  persons  who  were,  to  say  the  least, 
peaceful  citizens,  and,  if  they  offended  their 
neighbours,  did  so  under  the  impression  that  it 
was  in  order  to  confer  upon  them  an  inestimable 
service. 

115 


THE^COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

Garrick  acknowledged  that  the  comedy  was 
offensive,  and  inflicted  a  gratuitous  injury  on 
fellow-Christians  and  fellow-countrymen,  who, 
setting  aside  their  views,  from  which  many 
differed,  were  honourable  and  worthy  individuals. 
Had  he  known  the  character  of  the  play,  it  should 
never  have  been  acted  there,  and  she  might  rely 
upon  it  that  it  would  be  withdrawn. 

But,  whether  there  were  difficulties  with  the 
author  and  chief  performer,  Foote,  which  Garrick 
could  not  at  once  overcome,  or  whether  the 
temptation  to  replenish  the  theatre  coffers  was 
too  strong  for  him,  the  obnoxious  comedy  con- 
tinued to  be  played  for  some  time  longer, 
though  it  was  eventually  abandoned  and  never 
resumed. 

Lady  Huntingdon's  second  interview,  while 
doubtless  it  also  was  conducted  with  delicacy  and 
tact,  bore  on  the  face  of  it  such  an  air  of  invidious 
intolerance  and  interference  that  only  the  strongest 
sense  of  duty  could  have  induced  a  woman  of  the 
Countess's  good  judgment  and  fine  breeding  to 
undertake  the  thankless  task.  In  association 
with  her  Connexion  she  had  been  accustomed  to 
rule  on  account  of  her  rank,  ability,  and  experience, 
and  she  had  naturally  come  to  look  upon  herself 
as  a  privileged  adviser  and  arbiter.  In  addition 
she  was  deeply  attached  to  the  Church  of  England 

116 


A   WORLDLY   PRIMATE 

from  which  she,  Uke  Wesley  and  Whitefield,  was 
finally  compelled  to  secede. 

The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  at  this  time  was 
Archbishop  Cornwallis,  brother  of  Earl  Cornwallis. 
The  Archbishop  and  his  wife  were  a  scandal,  not 
only  to  the  Methodists,  but  to  all  sober-minded, 
right-thinking  people  of  whatever  sect,  because  of 
their  unseemly  worldly  dissipation  and  extrava- 
gance, their  great  routs  and  receptions  held  at 
their  Palace  on  Sundays  as  well  as  on  week-days. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  the  Arch- 
bishop's household  and  Lady  Huntingdon's  were 
not  in  the  same  circle,  so  that  she  was  not  person- 
ally acquainted  with  the  Cornwallises,  but  the 
two  families  had  relations  in  common,  who  could 
supply  her  with  introductions. 

It  is  a  sign  of  the  extent  to  which  the  scandal 
had  gone  that  one  of  these  connections  by 
marriage  not  only  supported  her  ladyship,  and 
attended  her  to  the  Palace  in  what  was  intended  to 
be  an  earnest  private  protest,  but  joined  his 
remonstrances  to  hers  against  what  was  becoming 
a  reproach  to  the  Church  and  a  source  of  malicious 
triumph  to  unbelievers. 

This  fearless  gentleman  was  the  Marquis  of 
Townshend,  son  of  Lady  Huntingdon's  early 
friend.  Lady  Townshend,  and  brother  of  Charles 
Townshend,  the  greatest  wit  of  his  generation. 

117 

9— (2^00) 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

The  Archbishop  received  his  visitors  with  great 
hauteur  and  impatience,  and  Mrs.  Cornwallis  was 
not  less  frigid  and  scornful. 

There  need  have  been  no  great  difficulty  in 
broaching  the  subject ;  there  was  sufficient  room 
for  introducing  it  in  referring  to  the  grievous  vices 
of  gambling  and  debauchery,  senseless  extrava- 
gance and  folly  of  every  kind,  then  prevalent  in 
the  upper  classes  of  society.  The  deduction 
followed  that  those  who  were  the  Lord's  servants 
were  bound  to  show  an  example  of  godly  living 
in  all  simplicity,  purity  and  righteous  self-denial, 
so  that  they  might  have  the  means  to  relieve  the 
poor  and  needy,  and  to  help  in  all  good  works. 
It  would  not  have  been  much  harder  to  add  the 
hint  that  gossip,  which  was  always  busy  with 
mischief,  had  been  very  busy  making  unpleasant 
remarks  on  the  number  and  nature  of  the  Arch- 
bishop's and  Mrs.  Cornwallis's  entertainments, 
and  on  the  times  and  seasons  when  they  had  taken 
place.  The  host  and  hostess  on  these  occasions 
had  been  only  too  lavishly  hospitable,  and  their 
friends  had  believed  that  they  might  do  the  couple 
a  service  by  reporting  the  hostile  talk  which  was 
flying  about  in  all  quarters. 

But  the  Archbishop  declined  to  listen  to  the 
voice  of  the  charmer,  let  him  charm  ever  so 
wisely.      It  would  have  been   useless  for  Lady 

118 


LAMBETH   HOUSE   GAIETIES 

Huntingdon  to  beg  him  to  forgive  what  might  seem 
the  presumption  of  a  poor  fooHsh  woman  who  was 
very  sensible  of  her  own  miserable  errors  and  sins, 
but  whose  whole  heart  was  keenly  ahve  to  the 
honour  of  her  Master  and  the  credit  of  the  Church 
of  England. 

It  would  have  been  sheer  folly  on  Lady  Hun- 
tingdon's part  for  her  to  attempt  to  plead,  with 
any  hope  of  success,  that  though  there  might  be 
something  to  be  said  (at  the  same  time  she  appre- 
hended there  was  but  little)  for  balls,  racecourses, 
card  parties,  and  suppers  lasting  far  into  the  small 
hours,  still  in  the  Archbishop's  Palace  and  on  the 
Lord's  Day,  as  well  as  on  the  six  lawful  days,  was 
there  not  a  stringent  necessity  to  consider  the  evil 
consequences  of  the  example  thus  set  before  the 
people  ? 

His  Grace  would  take  no  lesson  on  his  house- 
keeping from  a  set  of  ranters  and  canters,  and  said 
as  much. 

Very  Ukely  there  were  other  and  more  cruel 
home  thrusts  dealt  by  the  Archbishop  and  Mrs. 
CornwaUis — recommendations  for  Lady  Hunting- 
don to  let  charity  begin  at  home,  with  insinuations 
that  it  was  much  needed  there,  drawn  from  the 
notorious  infideUty  and  want  of  principle  of  her 
son,  the  Earl. 

The  interview  ended,  Mrs.  CornwaUis  carried  the 

119 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

story  round  to  the  dissipated  set  whose  friendship 
she  affected,  and  wherever  she  told  her  tale,  she 
loaded  Lady  Huntingdon  with  ridicule  and  abuse 
for  taking  upon  herself  the  insolent  performance 
of  preaching  to  the  Archbishop  in  his  own  Palace. 

In  self-defence,  and  in  something  like  despair  at 
her  failure,  the  Countess  sought  to  obtain  another 
interview  with  the  Archbishop,  to  no  purpose. 
Then  her  courage  rose  still  higher,  and  she  was 
induced  to  carry  her  protest  into  still  more  august 
regions.  She  craved  an  audience  from  King 
George  himself,  and  was  granted  it  without  delay. 

She  was  accompanied  on  her  mission  by  the 
Earl  of  Dartmouth,  a  nobleman  who  held  Lady 
Huntingdon's  views  and  had  agreed,  in  case  of  her 
death,  which  was  often  seriously  threatened,  of 
accepting  the  responsibility  and  assuming  the 
control  of  her  Connexion.  The  Duchess  of 
Ancaster  was  also  with  her — the  Duchess  who, 
in  the  days  of  the  youth  of  both,  had  been  with 
Lady  Huntingdon  in  the  party  of  ladies  of  rank 
and  fashion  whom  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu 
had  caricatured  in  what  she  described  as  the 
storming  of  the  **  strangers'  gallery  "  in  the  House 
of  Lords. 

Attention  has  been  already  called  to  the  signifi- 
cant fact  of  Lady  Huntingdon's  unswerving  fidelity 
to  her  early  friends,  whether  they  agreed  with  her 

120 


THE  COUNTESS  NO   MERE   FANATIC 

or  widely  differed  from  her,  in  her  strongly  ex- 
pressed principles.  So  far  from  repudiating  the 
old  friends,  whether  Bolingbroke  or  Chesterfield,  or 
this  Duchess  or  that  Countess,  she  stood  by  them 
and  they  stood  by  her  to  the  end.  She  compelled 
their  respect,  and  they  could  not  renounce  their 
liking  for  one  who  was  not  only  full  of  generosity 
and  goodwill,  but  was  herself  so  loyal  to  old  ties. 

It  appears  as  if  this  light  on  Lady  Huntingdon's 
character  should  be  more  taken  into  account  by 
those  who  will  look  upon  her,  after  Southey's 
fashion,  as  a  fanatic  and  enthusiast,  simply  swept 
away  by  a  religious  current,  incapable  of  realising 
any  other  obligations,  and  forgetting  or  regarding 
with  indifference  whatever  crossed  the  ruHng 
passion.  Surely  her  contemporaries — other  than 
those  who  existed  only  to  make  a  mock  of  all  that 
was  true,  honest,  lovely  and  of  good  report — must 
have  known  the  woman  better  than  later-day 
critics  can  compass. 

The  sympathy  and  encouragement  given  by 
Lady  Huntingdon's  companions  were  also  proofs 
of  the  justice  of  her  cause,  with  the  degree  to  which 
the  CornwalHses  had  outraged  pubUc  opinion  in 
the  correct  perceptions  of  all  the  more  serious  and 
decorous  in  their  class. 

The  days  were  long  past  the  time  when  the  young 
King  and  Queen  had  dehghted  in  making  Kew 

121 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

their  quiet  country  home,  where  they  practised 
all  the  domestic  virtues  and  indulged  theii  simple, 
homely  tastes.  The  Royal  couple  were  a  middle- 
aged  Darby  and  Joan,  already  suffering  a  foretaste 
of  the  many  sore  troubles  and  heavy  cares  which 
were  to  be  their  portion  in  later  life.  Not  the 
least  of  them  were  occasioned  by  the  wildness  and 
undutifulness  of  the  grown-up  sons  who  had  formed 
part  of  the  great  troop  of  merry  boys  and  girls, 
princes  and  princesses,  then  the  pride  and  delight 
of  the  parents'  hearts. 

The  pair  were  still  upright  and  true  to  their 
worthy  antecedents,  amidst  whatever  political 
mistakes  and  social  blunders,  still  honestly  seek- 
ing to  do  their  best  in  the  exalted  station  to  which 
they  had  been  called,  still  the  friends  of  goodness 
wherever  they  realised  it. 

The  King  and  Queen  received  Lady  Huntingdon 
in  one  of  the  simply  furnished  Kew  drawing-rooms, 
about  which  he  moved  continually,  a  comely, 
stout  elderly  gentleman  in  his  snuff-brown  coat 
with  the  blue  ribbon  of  the  noblest  Enghsh  order 
of  chivalry  across  his  breast. 

The  little  woman  with  the  large  mouth,  the 
beautiful  hands,  and  the  rich,  sober  dress,  sat  very 
upright  in  the  corner  of  her  settee,  but  her  manner 
we  are  told  was  graciousness  itself. 

She  could  not  have  dreamt  that  the  time  would 

122 


A  CHARACTER  MISUNDERSTOOD 

come  when  her  very  virtues  would  be  used  against 
her,  because  of  the  shadows  which  wait  on  the 
lustre  of  such  virtues — the  intolerance  of  weakness, 
folly  and  vice,  which  is  apt  to  accompany  staunch 
courage  and  uprightness — the  rigidity  which  will 
attend  on  a  rooted  love  of  order,  propriety  and 
discipUne — the  chnging  to  the  privileges,  yes,  and 
it  may  be  to  the  perquisites,  of  supreme  rank, 
simply  as  a  matter  of  right  which  cannot  be 
abandoned  without  a  loss  of  dignity,  not  less  than 
of  power,  in  her  who  abandons  them,  and  that 
not  without  injury  to  her  successors. 

And  so,  because  a  generation  has  arisen  in  which 
there  are  volatile,  rebeUious  spirits  to  whom 
careless  disorder,  recklessness  and  self-indulgence 
present  infinitely  more  attractions  than  do  their 
opposites — wise  prudence,  noble  self-denial,  and 
loyal  submission  to  authority — "  good  Queen 
Charlotte's "  memory  is  undervalued,  nay, 
assailed.  Her  sterUng  quahties,  her  devotion  to 
her  husband  and  children,  her  unremitting  efforts 
to  preserve  a  pure  Court  in  a  dissolute  age,  her 
thoughtful,  hberal  charities,  her  hospital,  her 
orphanage  for  young  gentlewomen,  founded  and 
maintained  out  of  her  private  purse — the  lightest 
purse  of  any  of  the  later  queen  consorts,  the  most 
freely  opened  for  the  benefit  of  the  needy  in  what- 
ever class  of  hfe  they  might  be  found — are  all 

123 


THE   COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

forgotten.  Who  could  have  imagined  that  "  good 
Queen  Charlotte's  "  portrait  would  be  painted  and 
held  up  to  the  readers  of  the  twentieth  century  as 
that  of  the  hard,  grasping,  inscrutable  "  sphinx  of 
Mecklenburg  Strelitz  ? 

The  interview  was  a  lengthened  one,  lasting  till 
refreshments  were  pressed  on  the  visitors,  for  their 
Majesties  had  heard  much  of  Lady  Huntingdon's 
good  works,  and  had  desired  to  see  her. 

The  King,  in  his  rambling  way,  referred  to  what 
he  had  been  told  of  the  eloquence  of  her  preachers 
of  whom  his  bishops  were  jealous.  He  chuckled 
over  an  anecdote  of  one  of  his  bishops,  who  had 
complained  to  His  Majesty  of  the  disturbances 
caused  by  some  of  Lady  Huntingdon's  students 
and  pastors.  The  Royal  reply  had  contained  the 
substance  of  the  advice  given  by  George  H 
when  the  same  complaint  had  been  urged  against 
Whitefield  and  his  companions.  The  old  King 
had  suggested  as  a  sovereign  remedy  for  gagging 
the  offenders,  "  Make  bishops  of  'em !  Make 
bishops  of  'em!  " 

The  King  listened  attentively  to  Lady  Hunting- 
don's tale  of  the  matter  and  manner  of  her  inter- 
view with  the  Archbishop.  His  Majesty  declared 
that  her  feelings  and  the  expression  of  them  were 
highly  creditable  to  her.  He  had  heard  something 
of  the  Archbishop's  proceedings,  and  now  that  he 

124 


THE   KING   INTERVENES 

was  certain  of  them  and  of  his  most  ungracious 
conduct  towards  her  Ladyship,  after  her  trouble 
in  remonstrating  with  them,  he  should  interpose 
his  authority  and  see  what  that  would  do  towards 
reforming  those  indecent  practices. 

So  King  George,  in  all  good  faith,  wrote  his 
admonitory  letter  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury : 

"  My  good  Lord  Prelate, — I  would  not  delay 
giving  you  a  notification  of  the  great  concern  with 
which  my  breast  was  affected  at  receiving  authentic 
information  that  routs  have  made  their  way  into 
your  Palace.  At  the  same  time,  I  must  signify 
to  you  my  sentiments  on  the  subject,  which  hold 
these  levities  and  vain  dissipations  as  utterly 
inexpedient,  if  not  unlawful,  to  pass  in  a  residence 
for  many  centuries  devoted  to  divine  studies, 
rehgious  retirement,  and  the  extensive  exercise  of 
charity  and  benevolence  ;  I  add  in  a  place  where 
so  many  of  your  predecessors  have  led  their  lives 
in  such  sanctity  as  has  thrown  lustre  on  the  pure 
rehgion  they  professed  to  adorn. 

"  From  the  dissatisfaction  with  which  you  must 
perceive  I  behold  these  improprieties — not  to 
speak  in  harsher  terms — and  on  still  more  pious 
principles,  I  trust  you  will  suppress  them  imme- 
diately ;  so  that  I  may  not  have  occasion  to  show 
any  further  marks  of  my  displeasure,  or  to  inter- 
pose in  a  different  manner.  May  God  take  your 
Grace  into  His  Almighty  protection. 
*'  I  remain,  my  Lord  Primate, 

"Your  gracious  friend, 

"G.R." 

125 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

The  Royal  letter  ended  the  scandal,  with  what 
indignation  on  the  part  of  the  recipient  is  not 
reported. 

From  that  date  King  George  and  Queen 
Charlotte  never  failed  to  speak  of  Lady  Hunting- 
don with  the  warmest  praise.  They  dismissed  as 
too  absurd  to  notice  the  idle  malice  which  called 
her  as  mad  as  her  cousin,  Earl  Ferrers.  When 
someone  said  at  Court  that  she  took  too  much 
upon  her  and  usurped  the  office  of  a  bishop,  the 
King  was  quick  to  reply  that  he  wished  he  had 
more  bishops  like  her. 

Had  the  incident  of  the  appeal  to  the  King 
against  the  worldly  frivolity  of  the  Archbishop 
and  his  belongings  occurred  in  the  twentieth 
instead  of  at  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
one  is  tempted  to  think  there  would  have  been 
much  talk  of  precedents  and  of  constitutional  and 
unconstitutional  methods,  but  under  the  more 
primitive  regime  the  honest  old  King  thought  only 
of  the  right  and  the  wrong  of  the  affair,  and  acted 
as  his  conscience  told  him. 


126 


CHAPTER   VIII 

Death  of  Lord  Henry  Hastings  at  the  Age  of  Eighteen — Lady  Hunting- 
don's Distress — The  Eagerness  with  which  she  Listened  to  the 
Suggestion  oflFered  by  the  late  Earl's  Godson — The  Sickening  of 
Lady  Huntingdon's  Younger  and  Home  Daughter,  with  her  Happy 
Prospects  of  Marriage  to  her  Cousin — The  Future  Heir  to  the 
Huntingdon  Earldom — The  Pathos  of  the  Mother's  Lamentation, 
and  of  her  Reminiscences  of  her  Daughter's  Peaceful  Death-bed — 
Berridge's  Rousing  Letter  Rebuking  the  Countess's  Excessive 
Grief. 

Within  the  year  before  Lord  Ferrers'  death,  a  sad 
year  for  Lady  Huntingdon,  she  was  summoned  in 
the  month  of  September,  1759,  to  Brighton  to 
watch  by  the  death-bed  of  her  younger  son  Henry, 
a  lad  of  eighteen.  While  he  does  not  seem  to  have 
had  the  intellectual  promise  and  culture  of  his 
brother,  Earl  Francis,  he  was  like  him  in  his 
rejection  of  his  mother's  rehgion.  The  unmistak- 
able inference  to  be  drawn  from  the  tone  of  the 
letters  addressed  to  her  on  his  death  is  that,  young 
as  he  was,  he  had  already  made  himself  conspicuous 
for  atheistical  opinions,  and  it  would  seem  for  the 
excuses  so  commonly  indulged  in  at  the  period. 

As  an  indication  of  how  the  mother's  heart  was 
wrung  by  the  hostihty  of  her  sons,  ahke  to 
Christianity  and  to  virtue,  she  is  said  in  the  midst 
of  her  strict  Calvinism  to  have  derived  comfort 
from  the  milder  views  of  a  divine,  a  godson  of  her 
late  husband's  and  a  protige  of  the  Hastings 
family.     He  held  that  "  possibly  the  state  of  future 

127 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

punishment  might  be  only  a  process  of  severe 
disciphne,  and  that  the  greatest  sinners  might 
ultimately  find  mercy."  We  are  told  "  these 
words  sank  deep  into  her  heart." 

An  end  had  come  with  the  death  of  Miss  Hotham 
to  the  intimacy  which  had  subsisted  for  a  time 
between  her  brother,  Sir  Charles  Hotham,  and 
Lord  Huntingdon,  from  which  the  Earl's  friends, 
and  surely  his  mother  most  of  all,  had  hoped  much. 
Humanly  speaking,  there  seemed  little  Hkelihood 
of  his  views  and  habits  undergoing  a  change. 

Lady  Moira,  Lady  Huntingdon's  elder  daughter, 
with  her  own  circle  and  her  own  family,  was  settled 
in  Ireland,  where  she  resided  for  the  last  fifty 
years  of  her  life.  But  the  Countess  had  one  more 
remaining  child,  her  younger  and  her  home 
daughter,  for  whom  she  does  not  seem  to  have 
sought  a  place  at  Court.  This  was  the  second 
Sehna,  Miss  Hotham's  friend,  good,  kind  and  dear, 
her  mother's  constant  companion  and  sympathetic 
helper  in  all  her  work,  who  was  now  called  away, 
of  whom  Lady  Huntingdon  wrote  in  the  anguish 
which  her  friend  Mr.  Berridge  sought  to  assuage 
by  his  frank  rebuke :  "  My  dearest,  most  alto- 
gether lovely  child  and  daughter  .  .  .  the  desire 
of  my  eyes,  and  continual  pleasure  of  my  heart." 

Lady  Selina  Hastings  was  twenty-six  years  of 
age,  with  a  happy  future,  to  all  appearance,  in  store 

128 


LADY   SELINA   HASTINGS'    DEATH 

for  her.  She  was  engaged  in  marriage,  with  the 
consent  of  her  brother,  the  head  of  the  house,  and 
the  entire  approval  of  her  mother,  to  her  cousin, 
Colonel  George  Hastings,  two  years  her  senior. 
He  had  been  brought  up  along  with  his  elder 
brother  Theophilus,  and  her  elder  brother  Francis, 
under  her  father's  care  at  Donnington  Park,  so  that 
she  must  have  known  him  well  from  her  childhood. 

As  Francis  Earl  of  Huntingdon  was  not  hkely 
to  marry,  as  poor  young  Henry  was  dead,  and  as 
the  intended  bridegroom's  elder  brother,  the  Rev. 
Theophilus  Hastings,  was  childless,  the  great 
probability  was  that  Colonel  Hastings  would 
succeed  to  the  Earldom  of  Huntingdon  and  that 
Lady  Selina  would  live  to  be  Countess — another 
Sehna  Countess  of  Huntingdon,  a  worthy  successor 
of  her  mother.    But  hers  was  a  higher  promotion. 

Between  three  and  four  years  after  her  brother 
Henry's  death,  towards  the  close  of  April,  1763, 
Lady  Selina  was  seized  with  one  of  the  fevers 
which  were  so  common  and  so  deadly  in  that 
generation.  It  raged  for  seventeen  days  till  her 
death  on  the  twelfth  of  May. 

The  bereft  mother,  who  had  been  buoyed  up 
during  her  daughter's  illness  by  the  hopes  which 
the  doctors  gave  her  of  Lady  Selina' s  recovery,  was 
left  in  an  empty  house.  But  here  she  had  the 
consolations  which  she  most  prized.     Lady  Selina 

129 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

was  content  to  die  when  God  willed.  She  had 
even  a  premonition  of  the  end,  for  when  she  went 
to  bed  she  was  heard  to  say  that  she  would  never 
rise  from  it  more,  and  that  she  did  not  begin  then 
to  think  of  death. 

The  communion  between  mother  and  daughter 
during  the  last  days  was  very  near  in  its  pathos. 

"  At  one  time,"  writes  Lady  Huntingdon,  "  she 
called  me  and  said,  "  My  dearest  mother,  come  and 
lie  down  by  me  and  let  my  heart  be  laid  close  to 
yours,  and  then  I  shall  get  rest." 

The  dying  girl  told  those  around  her  that  she 
saw  two  angels  beckoning  her,  and  she  must  go, 
but  she  could  not  get  up  the  ladder. 

"  The  day  before  her  death,"  wrote  her  mother 
again,  "  I  came  to  her  and  asked  if  she  knew  me. 
She  answered,  *  My  dearest  mother.' 

**  I  asked  if  her  heart  was  happy.  She  repHed, 
*  I  now  well  understand  you,'  and  raising  her  head 
from  the  pillow,  added  her  testimony  (like  her 
dear  friends  the  Hothams),  '  I  am  happy,  very 
happy,'  and  then  put  out  her  lips  to  kiss  me." 

If  anyone  had  asked  Lady  Huntingdon  whether 
the  wrench  of  parting  on  earth  from  her  dearest 
child — sore  as  it  must  have  been — was  to  be 
compared  with  the  grief  of  the  aUenation  of  her 
sons,  one  cannot  doubt  what  her  answer  would 
have  been. 

130 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  Venerable  Saint — Countess  Moira  the  Sole  Survivor  of  Lady  Hunting- 
don's Seven  Children — The  End  of  Francis  Earl  of  Huntingdon — 
Old  Friends  Gone  Before — Methodism  Vindicated — Lady  Anne 
Erskine  Playing  a  Daughter's  Part — Lady  Huntingdon's  Zeal  to 
the  very  End — Her  Work  Finished — Death  on  the  17th  of  June 
117  Years  Ago — Buried  at  Ashby-de-la-Zouch,  Leicestershire — 
Her  Great-Great-Grandson  an  Ardent  Roman  Catholic,  the  late 
Marquis  of  Bute. 

Lady  Huntingdon  had  reached  the  last  stage  of 
human  existence,  the  fourscore  years  on  which 
the  sentence  has  gone  forth,  that  they  are  but 
labour  and  sorrow,  so  soon  are  they  over  and  gone. 

Of  the  Countess's  seven  children,  only  one 
survived,  Lady  Moira.  From  the  time  of  her 
brother's  death  she  was  Baroness  Hastings,  a 
great  lady  of  quality,  with  her  own  wide  circle, 
her  imperative  family  interests,  and  the  numerous 
claims  on  her  time  and  attention.  She  herself 
was  up  in  years,  while  her  husband,  her  mother's 
contemporary,  was  an  aged  man.  They  had  lived 
for  upwards  of  half-a-century  in  Ireland,  which 
was  not  then  a  next-door  neighbour  as  it  is  to-day. 
Mother  and  daughter  were  practically  cut  off  from 
personal  intercourse. 

Lady  Huntingdon's  firstborn  son,  Francis  Earl 
of  Huntingdon,  once  the  centre  of  so  much  hope 
and  promise,  was  gone,  the  hope  blasted,  the 
promise  unfulfilled.     He  died  in  1789,  two  years 

131 


THE   COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

before  his  mother,  seemingly  without  renouncing 
either  his  hostiUty  to  her  religion  or  his  well-bred 
vices. 

At  a  comparatively  early  age  he  had  retired 
from  Court,  piqued  by  some  fancied  slight,  and 
renounced  further  Royal  favour.  In  spite  of 
what  had  been  reckoned  his  fine  parts  and  accom- 
plishments, he  ended  his  days  in  obscurity.  With 
some  of  his  father's  disinclination  for  politics,  he 
had  none  of  what  Bolingbroke  eulogised  as  the 
elder  Lord  Huntingdon's  patriotism  in  the  esti- 
mable manner  in  which  he  performed  every  duty 
of  a  great  nobleman,  husband  and  father.  The 
verdict  pronounced  on  the  son — the  graceful 
scholar,  traveller  and  man  of  the  world,  whose 
"  elegance  "  was  such  that  it  could  not  be  accorded 
an  English  origin — was,  alas  !  weighed  in  the 
balance  and  found  wanting  in  all  solid  virtues. 

The  Evangelical  leaders  whom  Lady  Huntingdon 
followed  so  eagerly  and  faithfully  had  nearly  all 
crossed  the  bar  before  her.  Whitefield  had  long 
slept  his  last  sleep  beyond  the  Atlantic,  in  the  land 
dear  to  him,  where  he  had  been  privileged  to  work 
mighty  marvels  of  grace.  He  died — as  he  had 
lived — in  harness,  travelling  and  preaching  to  the 
last  day  of  his  hfe. 

Of  the  Wesleys,  Charles,  the  younger,  the  sweet 
singer  of  Methodism,  whose  happy  marriage  the 

132 


METHODISM   SECURE 

redoubtable  Berridge  had  quoted  as  spoiling  him 
for  the  commission  he  held,  was  dead  in  1788, 
working  steadfastly  to  the  end.  The  elder  brother, 
John,  whose  natural  strength  had  remained  long 
unabated,  who  had  hardly  known  the  meaning  of 
infirmity,  he,  too,  passed  within  the  veil  in  1791. 
Lady  Glenorchy  had  gone  to  her  rest  in  1786. 
Five  years  after  her,  and  four  months  later  than 
John  Wesley,  Lady  Huntingdon  departed  by  the 
same  well-trodden  road. 

Methodism  had  triumphed  over  its  enemies  and 
was  at  last  allowed  to  run  its  course  unmolested, 
save  by  the  mockery  of  the  unthinking  and  the 
prejudiced.  It  had  vindicated  its  existence,  not 
only  by  the  founding,  disciphning,  and  maintaining 
of  the  great  rehgious  bodies  which  rose  from  it, 
but  also  by  leaving  the  Church  of  England,  which 
had  repudiated  it,  and  in  doing  so  rejected  the 
noblest  of  her  sons,  because  of  their  Methodist 
doctrines,  leavened  with  the  very  tenets  for  which 
the  reformers  had  struggled  and  suffered. 

Lady  Huntingdon's  "  Connexion  "  continued  to 
flourish,  while  her  rule  over  it  and  interest  in  it 
only  ceased  with  her  last  breath. 

The  great  human  comfort  and  stay  of  the 
Countess  in  her  later  years  was  the  friendship, 
always  growing  closer  and  warmer,  which  had 
existed  for  a  long  period  with  a  kindred  spirit, 

133 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

though  much  her  junior  in  age,  Lady  Anne 
Erskine. 

Lady  Anne  had  removed  to  England,  settled 
there  permanently,  and  ended  by  sharing  Lady 
Huntingdon's  home  and  her  every  pursuit,  watch- 
ing over  her  declining  years  as  an  attached 
daughter  might  have  watched.  So  entire  was 
Lady  Huntingdon's  trust  in  the  wisdom  and 
goodness  of  her  friend,  who  was  still  in  middle  life, 
that  she  appointed  her  the  chief  trustee  who  was 
to  preside  over  the  affairs  of  the  Connexion  after 
Lady  Huntingdon's  death.  The  elder  woman's 
confidence  was  justified,  as  it  had  been  in  so  many 
instances.  Lady  Anne  Erskine,  in  spite  of  deli- 
cate health,  discharged  the  onerous  obligation  of 
the  position  with  devotion  and  discretion,  till 
her  own  death,  thirty  years  after  that  of  Lady 
Huntingdon. 

In  Lady  Huntingdon's  eighty-fourth  year,  when 
she  was  so  weakened  by  illness  as  to  be  bedridden, 
the  indomitable  Christian  woman  was  full  of  a 
project  for  sending  the  Gospel  to  Otaheite.  She 
was  no  less  keenly  anxious  about  the  supply  of 
service  in  one  of  her  chapels.  Spa  Fields,  next  door 
to  the  house  in  which  she  was  dwelling. 

Full  of  faith  and  full  of  peace,  her  only  lamenta- 
tion was  for  the  fatigue  she  was  occasioning  Lady 
Anne  and  another  faithful  friend  who  was  staying 

134 


ALLEGORICAL    P(M<1"KAIT    OF    LADV    H  L' NTINGDON 


A   DYING    MESSAGE 

by  her  day  and  night.  "  I  fear  I  shall  be  the  death 
of  you  both  ;  it  will  be  but  a  few  days  more,"  she 
said  in  regretful  apology.  "  I  long  to  be  at  home. 
Oh  !  I  long  to  be  at  home,"  she  often  cried.  Her 
final  message  to  the  world  in  which  she  had 
laboured  untiringly  was,  "  My  work  is  done  ;  I 
have  nothing  to  do  but  to  go  to  my  Father." 

Lady  Huntingdon  died  on  the  17th  of  June, 
1791,  and  was  buried  in  the  family  vault  at 
Ashby-de-la-Zouch,  Leicestershire. 

Among  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon's  lineal 
descendants  through  her  great  grand-daughter,  a 
namesake,  another  Lady  Selina  Hastings,  her 
great  -  great  -  grandson  was  the  late  Marquis  of 
Bute,  not  unlike  her  in  singleness  of  heart  and 
absorption  in  his  faith,  though  his  energies  were 
given  to  another  branch  of  the  Christian  Church. 

It  is  worth  while  to  study  how  the  same  principle 
acted  with  equal  effect  and  with  singular  likeness 
in  detail  on  two  women  totally  different  in  char- 
acter, the  one  in  England,  the  other  in  Scotland — 
countries  then  in  broad  contrast. 

Lady  Huntingdon,  who  exerted  so  powerful  and 
transforming  an  influence  over  Lady  Glenorchy, 
was  a  woman  of  strong  intellect,  in  circumstances 
and  among  companions  that  developed  it  to  its 
full  extent.  She  was  a  woman  of  a  fearless  and 
independent   mind,   judging  for   herself,   able  to 

13S 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

stand  alone  when  necessary — a  woman  born  to 
rule — and  in  her  passionate  regard  for  the  honour 
of  her  Master  and  the  welfare  of  her  neighbour, 
was  bound  to  act  for  her  fellow-creatures,  for  the 
ignorant,  the  indifferent,  and  the  erring.  She  is 
the  same  in  all  her  doings,  with  the  lowest  as  with 
the  highest,  from  the  servants  and  workpeople 
whom  she  must  instruct,  to  the  Archbishop  with 
whom  she  remonstrates,  and  the  King  to  whom 
she  appeals. 

Lady  Glenorchy  was  spirituelle,  in  the  French 
sense  of  the  word.  She  had  the  winning  gifts  of 
a  gracious  personality,  intelligence,  and  a  bright 
vivacity  which  were  quite  compatible  with  being 
in  dead  earnest  where  her  beliefs  and  feelings  were 
concerned.  She  was  constitutionally  timid,  full 
of  unaffected  self-depreciation,  with  no  confidence 
in  herself,  but  prone  to  rely  without  question  on 
those  she  loved  and  trusted.  Hers  was  a  sweet 
and  lovable  nature. 

Lady  Huntingdon,  a  brave,  clear-headed, 
strenuously  good  woman,  had  the  corresponding 
faults  of  such  a  character — unconscious  self- 
assertion,  and  scant  tolerance  of  the  weakness  of 
others. 

Lady  Glenorchy  had  the  failings  of  her  dis- 
position, she  was  not  fickle — indeed  hers  was  a 
very  constant  temper,  and  her  feet  were  on  a 

136 


ECCLESIASTICISM 

rock, — but  she  was  inclined  to  despondency, 
austerity,  and  occasional  impetuous  revolts  in 
opposition  to  her  habitual  meekness. 

It  was  the  national  churches  with  which  the 
couple  had  to  do.  In  the  English  Church  the 
Bishops  were  fighting  to  maintain  their  temporal 
dignity,  and  to  stem  the  tide  of  Methodist  innova- 
tion. Their  dignity  was  defied,  and  the  tide  was 
unchecked,  and  penetrated  in  all  directions. 

In  the  democratic  Scotch  Church,  which 
governed  itself,  where  brothers  ruled  brothers,  the 
repubhcan  spiritual  dignity  of  the  ministers  with 
the  certainty  of  their  divine  commission  was 
unassailed  and  seemed  unassailable,  and  in  spite 
of  the  cold  blast  of  Moderatism  the  ministers' 
power  over  the  members  of  their  congregations  was 
undiminished.  Contrast  the  letters  which  Lady 
Huntingdon  writes  to  the  clergy  of  her  Connexion, 
issuing  her  wise  commands,  and  the  deferential 
replies  given  by  the  recipients,  with  the  corre- 
spondence between  Lady  Glenorchy  and  her 
minister,  Mr.  Robert  Walker,  in  which  she  humbly 
asks  his  advice  and  opinion,  and  the  directions  he 
gives  her  with  fatherly  tenderness.  Note  also  the 
extremely  independent  and  rather  harsh  treatment 
she  meets  with  in  her  presbytery  and  synod. 

The  English  Churchman  who  approached  nearest 
to  the  Scotch  ministers  in  the  tone  adopted  to  their 

137 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

people  were  John  Wesley  in  his  unapproachable 
superiority,  his  dogmatism  and  his  benevolence, 
Berridge  in  his  homely  heartiness  and  drollery, 
and  Rowland  Hill  in  his  irrepressible  humour  and 
that  abounding  concern  for  the  bodies  as  well  as 
the  souls  of  his  followers,  which  caused  him  to 
travel  on  his  missions  provided  with  large  supplies 
of  lymph,  so  that  he  personally  vaccinated  many 
thousands  of  patients,  emphasizing  the  great 
specific  of  the  day  against  the  scourge  of  his  time. 
The  moral  of  the  difference  between  the  two 
women  and  between  the  two  churches  a  Christian 
advocate  would  explain  by  saying  that  all  are  the 
creatures  of  the  Almighty  Ruler  of  the  Universe, 
and  that  it  is  the  will  of  Him  who,  while  essential 
in  unity,  is  infinite  in  operation,  to  take  His  saints 
of  all  kinds,  and  from  all  quarters,  to  work  His 
will. 


138 


CHAPTER  X 

Lady  Glenorchy  the  Immediate  Follower  of  Lady  Huntingdon — 
Willielma  Maxwell — The  Future  Lady  Glenorchy  Born,  in  1741, 
the  Posthumous  Child  of  a  Cadet  of  the  Maxwells  of  Nithsdale — 
Maxwell  of  Preston's  Co-heiresses — his  two  Baby  Girls  Mary  and 
Willielma — Second  Marriage  of  their  Mother,  when  the  Daughters 
were  Fourteen  and  Thirteen  Years  of  Age,  to  the  Scotch  Judge, 
Lord  Alva — Character  of  Lady  Alva — Edinburgh  Society  of  the 
Time — Lady  Alva's  Ambition  for  her  Daughters — The  Maxwell 
Sis  ers'  Great  Marriages,  the  Elder  to  the  Earl  of  Sutherland,  the 
Younger  to  Viscount  Glenorchy,  Son  and  Heir  of  the  Earl  of 
Breadalbane — The  Characters  of  Lord  Sutherland  and  Lord 
Glenorchy — The  Cloud  that  Hung  from  the  First  over  Lady 
Glenorchy 's  Married  Life. 

Of  all  Lady  Huntingdon's  circle,  Lady  Glenorchy 
adopted  her  friend's  example  most  nearly  and  was, 
in  fact,  her  disciple.  The  two  ladies  were  divided 
in  age,  they  were  largely  separated  by  what  was 
distance  in  their  day,  they  were  even  unUke  in 
mental  scope  and  natural  disposition.  The  re- 
semblance between  them  lay  in  their  rank,  their 
worldly  circumstances,  and  in  the  single-minded 
devotion  with  which  they  consecrated  all  to  their 
Master' ss  ervice  and  to  the  good  of  their  fellow- 
creatures.  The  one  became  the  prototype  of  the 
other.  The  story  of  Lady  Huntingdon  is  hardly 
complete  without  the  story  of  Lady  Glenorchy. 

Lady  Huntingdon's  circle  created  a  parallel 
circle.  Lady  Huntingdon's  friends  and  contem- 
poraries were  very  much  the  originals  of  Lady 
Glenorchy' s  friends  and  contemporaries,  sometimes 

139 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

the  circles  blended  and  became  one.  Many  of  the 
members  of  the  two  sets  were  well  known  to  each 
other,  while  to  Lady  Huntingdon  the  distinction 
was  due  of  being  the  foundress  of  the  movement. 

Lady  Glenorchy  began  in  Scotland  to  do  what 
Lady  Huntingdon  had  done  in  England,  but  there 
was  not  a  like  need  for  the  work  in  Scotland. 
From  Reformation  times  the  Scotch  had  been 
taught  in  their  parish  schools  not  less  than  from 
their  Presbyterian  pulpits.  If  the  people  (in  the 
Lowlands  especially)  were  passing  through  an  era 
of  moderatism  cooling  down  into  indifferentism, 
there  was  still  a  wide  gulf  between  such  a  decHne 
and  the  dense  ignorance  and  fierce  turbulence 
which  prevailed  among  the  masses  in  the  remoter 
districts  of  the  sister  country. 

The  difficulty  of  having  been  forced  into 
contention  with  an  established  church,  which  was 
as  much  the  church  of  the  people  as  it  was  the 
church  of  the  upper  classes,  turned  Lady 
Glenorchy's  energies  in  another  direction,  and 
led  her  to  tread  still  more  closely  in  the  footsteps 
of  her  old  friend  and  model,  bestowing  on  England 
the  benefits — more  wanted  there — which  she  had 
destined  for  Scotland.  Thus  her  later  good  deeds 
were  almost  altogether  after  the  fashion  of  those 
of  Lady  Huntingdon. 
-In    September,    1741,    four    years    before    the 

140 


THE   PRESTON    HOUSEHOLD 

second  Jacobite  rebellion,  Willielma  Maxwell, 
the  posthumous  daughter  of  William  Maxwell,  in 
Kirkcudbrightshire,  was  born  at  her  late  father's 
seat  of  Preston. 

William  Maxwell  seems  to  have  married  late  in 
life,  as  he  had  practised  the  profession  of  medicine 
and  accumulated  a  large  fortune  when  he  died — 
four  years  after  his  marriage.  His  wife,  Elizabeth 
Hairstanes,  of  Craig,  was  the  daughter  of  a 
neighbouring  Kirkcudbrightshire  laird. 

Maxwell  of  Preston  is  said  to  have  belonged 
to  a  branch  of  the  Nithsdale  family.  If  he  shared 
their  political  opinions  and  their  adherence  to  the 
house  of  Stuart,  his  death  four  years  before  the 
rebellion  of  the  '45  saved  him  and  his  family  from 
ruin.  Lord  Nithsdale,  the  head  of  the  house,  like 
another  south  country  peer.  Lord  Kenmure,  the 
representative  of  the  Lowland  Gordons,  had 
played  his  part  in  the  previous  rebeUion.  The 
romantic  story  of  Nithsdale's  escape  from  the 
Tower  of  London  by  his  faithful  wife's  ingenuity 
and  courage  is  well  known,  and  must  have  been 
a  household  word  with  his  cousins  at  Preston. 

The  Preston  household  consisted  of  the  widow 
of  the  laird,  a  woman  still  in  her  first  youth,  and 
two  baby  girls,  Mary  and  WiUielma,  with  only  a 
year  between  them  in  age,  the  co-heiresses  of  their 
late  father's  fortune. 

141 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

Thirteen  years  after  her  husband's  death,  Mrs. 
Maxwell  married  again  Charles  Erskine,  of  Tine- 
wold  and  Alva,  a  Judge  on  the  Scotch  Bench,  with 
the  title  of  Lord  Alva,  which  enabled  his  wife  by 
the  courtesy  of  the  time  to  be  called  Lady  Alva. 

It  was  a  privilege  which  Lady  Alva  was  Hkely 
to  value,  for  her  reputation  was  that  of  an  ambi- 
tious, worldly-minded  woman.  Lord  Alva  was 
appointed  Lord  Justice  Clerk,  which  placed  him 
at  the  head  of  the  legal  circles  in  Edinburgh. 
Under  his  roof  in  the  Scotch  capital  his  young 
step-daughters,  to  whom  he  was  kind  and  fatherly, 
enjoyed  exceptional  educational  and  social 
advantages. 

It  was  the  fairly  intellectual  generation  of  Alan 
Ramsay  and  David  Hume.  The  star  of  Robert 
Burns  was  rising  above  the  horizon.  Alison, 
Cockburn  and  the  Duchess  of  Gordon  were  leaders 
in  the  society  which  included  the  musical  Earl  of 
Kelly  and  many  more  of  the  Scotch  nobility. 
They  still  clung  to  their  old  capital,  though  their 
palace  was  vacant  of  a  king,  and  the  Parliament 
House  had  become  the  promenade  of  sprightly, 
audacious  young  advocates. 

It  was  said  that  from  her  daughters'  childhood 
their  mother.  Lady  Alva,  had  made  up  her  mind 
that  they  should  make  the  great  marriages  to 
which,  in  her  estimation,  their  birth,  their  fortunes, 

142 


YOUNG   LADIES'    EDUCATION 

and  their  personal  and  mental  attractions  entitled 
them.  They  seem  to  have  been  pretty  and 
pleasing  girls,  well  versed  in  the  not  too  profound 
but  eminently  agreeable  accomphshments  of  their 
day. 

Such  accomplishments  enabled  them  to  play 
"  lessons "  on  the  spinet,  to  sing  with  sweet, 
fresh  voices,  which  indulged  in  not  a  few  beguiling 
shakes  and  twirls,  Alan  Ramsay's  newest  song  and 
the  Italian  ditties  of  their  music-master.  The 
young  ladies'  useful  smattering  of  modern  lan- 
guages, French  and  ItaUan,  fitted  them  to  pro- 
nounce and  express  the  language  and  sentiments 
of  such  songs  with  propriety  and  feeling. 

The  list  of  educational  acquirements  was  com- 
pleted by  the  power  of  doing  a  little  stiff  pencil 
drawing  and  crude  water-colour  painting,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  embroidery  so  essential  for  the  embel- 
lishment of  ruffles,  caps  and  aprons,  with  the  carpet 
woolwork  to  cover  chairs  and  footstools  when 
the  eyes  were  growing  dim,  to  fill  up  the  odds  and 
ends  of  time,  and  to  soothe  and  entertain  the  not 
too  exacting  brains. 

Lady  Alva  had  her  wish.  Her  two  daughters 
married  in  the  same  year  when  Mary  was  in  her 
twenty-first  and  WiUielma  in  her  twentieth  year. 
The  two  young  men  whom  they  married  might  be 
reckoned  the  first  matches  in  Scotland. 

143 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

Mary  was  wedded  to  the  twentieth  Earl  of 
Sutherland,  the  head  of  a  great  clan,  the  premier 
earl  of  Scotland,  and  the  possessor  of  many  a  mile 
of  deer  forest  and  sheep  pasture,  as  well  as  of  the 
noble  ancestral  home  of  Dunrobin. 

Wilhelma  became  the  wife  of  John  Viscount 
Glenorchy,  the  only  son  and  heir  of  the  third  Earl 
of  Breadalbane,  the  owner  of  the  Campbells'  broad 
lands  in  Perthshire  and  the  master  of  Taymouth, 
one  of  the  most  beautifully  situated  and  stately 
houses  in  Scotland,  on  the  shores  of  its  lovely  loch, 
surmounted  by  its  wild  mountains,  the  monarchs 
of  all  they  survey. 

Truly  Lady  Alva  was  successful.  Two  other 
establishments  like  those  of  Dunrobin  and  Tay- 
mouth were  hardly  to  be  found  in  Scotland.  And 
for  her  daughters  to  be  their  mistresses  might  have 
satisfied  the  pride  of  the  most  match-making 
mother  between  John  o'  Groats  and  the  Cheviots. 

Without  doubt  there  were  qualifications  to  the 
perfection  of  the  alliances — perhaps  scarcely  so  in 
the  case  of  the  Earl  of  Sutherland,  who  seems  to 
have  been  a  young  nobleman  of  much  promise 
and  many  winning  qualities,  of  whom  it  could  not 
have  been  foreseen  that  his  sun  would  go  down 
in  darkness  at  noon. 

But  of  Lord  Glenorchy,  whose  twenty-three 
years  did  not  much  surpass  his  bride's  nineteen 

144 


LADY   GLENORCHY'S   TRIALS 

summers,  it  is  broadly  stated  that  his  quahties 
were  the  reverse  of  Lord  Sutherland's,  and  that 
his  character  could  not  have  been  known  to  Lady 
Alva — the  moving  spirit  in  the  matter,  or  even 
she  would  not  have  been  so  blinded  by  his  rank 
and  wealth  as  to  have  conspired  to  shut  the 
eyes  of  her  young  daughter  to  all  save  the  glamour 
of  her  promotion. 

Alas  !  poor  young  Willielma  !  gentle  and  sensi- 
tive, who  never  knew  a  father's  protecting  care, 
with  a  mother  (of  whom  the  daughter  seems  to 
have  always  stood  greatly  in  awe),  hard  and  irre- 
sponsive, while  the  girl  was  soon  to  part  from  her 
young  sister,  her  only  other  near  relation  with 
whom  she  had  hitherto  shared  every  pleasure  and 
trouble  of  her  life. 

From  the  beginning  of  Lady  Glenorchy's  married 
life  her  biographer*  refers  to  her  heavy  and  continu- 
ous domestic  trials,  although  he  does  not  once 
mention  their  nature,  leaving  the  inferences  to  be 
drawn  from  the  simple  declaration  of  Lord 
Glenorchy's  unworthiness. 

Readers  of  a  future  generation  are  left  to 
conjecture  if  the  excessive  drinking  and  gambling 
with  the  open  profligacy  of  the  time  had  to  do 
with  the  rarely-lifted  cloud  which  rested  on  all 
the  years  of  Lady  Glenorchy's  married  Ufe.     One 

*  T.   S.  Jones. 
145 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

is  tempted  to  the  conclusion  from  the  fact  that 
the  couple,  though  they  had  other  residences 
assigned  to  them,  lived  for  the  most  part  with  the 
husband's  father,  a  powerful,  masterful  Scotch 
nobleman — because  his  mere  presence  might  serve 
as  a  shield  to  his  daughter-in-law  from  the 
consequences  of  his  son's  vices. 


146 


CHAPTER  XI 

Lord  Glenorchy's  Half-sister — Death  of  his  Mother  in  the  Year  of  her 
Son's  Marriage — Lord  Breadalbane's  Accompanying  his  Son  and 
Daughter-in-law  for  the  Grand  Tour — Ca  led  Back  from  Nice  by  the 
Death  of  his  Sister — The  Young  Couple's  Unsatisfactory  tete-d-tHe 
for  the  Remainder  of  their  Two  Years'  Absence — A  Separation 
between  the  Pair  never  dreamt  of — Former  Rarity  of  Divorces 
or  Separate  Establishments — Uncompromising  Requirement  of  the 
Fulfilment  of  Duty  in  Difficult  Circumstances — Lord  and  Lady 
Glenorchy's  Return  to  England  and  Stay  at  his  own  House  of 
Sugnall — Near  Neighbourhood  of  Hawkstone  the  Home  of  Sir 
Rowland  Hill  and  his  Family — Intimacy  of  Lady  Glenorchy  with 
Miss  Hill. 

Lord  Glenorchy  was  not  his  father's  only  child. 
He  had  an  elder  half-sister,  Lady  Jemima  Campbell, 
who,  in  right  of  her  mother,  one  of  the  daughters 
and  co-heiresses  of  Henry  Duke  of  Kent,  and  in 
succession  to  an  infant  brother,  whose  death 
followed  closely  on  that  of  his  mother,  succeeded 
to  the  titles  of  Baroness  Lucas  of  Crudwell  and 
Marchioness  de  Grey.  When  a  middle-aged 
woman  she  married  the  Earl  of  Hardwick. 

Lord  Glenorchy's  mother,  the  Earl  of  Breadal- 
bane's second  wife,  died  at  Bath  in  1762,  the  year 
of  her  son's  marriage,  when  Lord  Breadalbane 
deliberately  put  the  management  and  control  of 
what  were  called  "  his  magnificent  apartments  in 
Holyrood,"  which  constituted  his  Edinburgh 
residence,  and  his  castle  of  Taymouth,  where  the 
household  consisted  on  occasions  of  as  many  as 
forty  servants,  under  Lord  and  Lady  Glenorchy, 

147 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

the  Earl  dwelling  usually  under  their  roof.  Even 
when  he  occupied  his  house  in  London,  where  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  staying  for  the  winter,  he  had 
Lady  Glenorchy  with  him  presiding  as  the  lady 
of  the  house. 

Lord  Glenorchy  had  a  house  of  his  own  in 
England,  the  old  manor  house  of  Great  Sugnall  in 
Staffordshire,  which  came  to  him  through  his 
mother. 

On  Lady  Breadalbane's  death  at  Bath,  the  Earl, 
his  son  and  daughter-in-law  went  abroad  travelling 
en  famille  en  grand  seigneur. 

But  after  they  had  made  some  stay  in  France 
and  had  reached  Nice,  Lord  Breadalbane  was 
called  home  by  the  death  of  a  sister,  and  the  young 
couple  proceeded  by  themselves  to  Rome,  remain- 
ing abroad  for  the  two  years  usually  devoted  to 
the  Grand  Tour.  This  appears  to  have  been  the 
longest  time  Lord  and  Lady  Glenorchy  passed 
tete-a-tete  away  from  other  friends  and  from  the 
crowd  of  company  around  the  Earl,  especially  when 
he  kept  open  house  at  Tay mouth. 

The  season  of  comparative  solitude  may  have 
been  the  period  of  disillusion,  if,  indeed,  any 
illusion  had  ever  existed  on  the  part  of  the 
wife,  as  to  the  life  she  and  her  husband  would 
lead  together.  For,  in  addition  to  poor  Lord 
Glenorchy's  graver  failings,  he  is  said  to  have  had 

148 


LADY  GLENORCHY'S  APPEARANCE 

one  of  those  peculiarly  trying  and  unpleasant 
tempers  in  which  contradiction  for  contradiction's 
sake  was  prominent,  with  the  wrangling  so  foreign 
and  so  wearing  and  detestable  to  an  originally 
pliant  and  sympathetic  character,  drawn  into 
what  it  hates  by  main  force,  as  it  were.  Another 
feature  of  such  a  temper  was  a  coarse-natured 
satisfaction  in  sheer  unmitigated  teasing  which, 
like  the  baiting  of  the  lower  animals,  becomes  in 
harsh  reckless  hands  positive  cruelty  to  more 
highly-strung,  susceptible  natures. 

One  of  the  trophies  of  foreign  travel  brought 
back  from  that  by  no  means  serene  and  sunshiny 
period  was  a  portrait — at  one  time  supposed  to 
have  been  the  only  portrait  of  herself  in  which 
Lady  Glenorchy  indulged,  so  little  did  she  care 
latterly  for  these  personal  vanities.  The  picture 
had  been  painted  in  Italy,  and  she  is  repre- 
sented as  playing  on  a  lute.  Whoever  the  artist 
may  have  been,  it  was  not  considered  to  possess 
any  great  resemblance  to  its  subject.  That 
she  never  lost  altogether  her  youthful  come- 
hness  is  attested  by  her  chaplain's  sedate  reference 
to  her  "  agreeable  person  "  as  one  of  the  womanly 
attractions  which  survived  in  her  to  the  last. 

Lady  Glenorchy  herself  tells  later  that  the  relief 
which  she  sought  on  her  return  to  England  was 
in  the  reaHsation  of  the  compensations  to  her  lot 

149 

11— <»30o) 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

afforded  by  its  dignity  and  splendour,  and  in 
courting  forgetfulness  by  plunging  afresh  into  the 
whirlpool  of  dissipation  in  which  she  declared, 
before  long,  the  first  twenty  years  of  her  life  were 
spent. 

But  her  words  must  be  taken  with  reservation, 
prompted  as  they  were  by  the  self-abasement  and 
the  austerity  of  the  religious  views  of  her  genera- 
tion, which  she  soon  adopted  and  held  with  a 
tenacity  that  was  life-long. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  neither  then  nor  at 
any  other  time,  when  the  uncongeniality  of  her 
partner  in  life  was  most  oppressive  and  exaspera- 
ting, threatening  seriously  to  impede  if  not  to 
destroy  the  spiritual  progress  on  which  she  set 
such  store,  was  there  ever  the  smallest  hint 
dropped  of  a  purposed  separation  between  the 
wedded  pair. 

The  divorces,  different  establishments,  and 
separate  maintenances — the  results  of  infidelity  to 
marriage  vows,  incompatibility  of  temper  and  sheer 
fickleness  and  restlessness — which  are  so  numerous 
in  the  present  day,  were  by  comparison  rarely 
heard  of  a  century- and- a- half  ago.  With  the 
serious-minded  and  devout  they  were  only  resorted 
to  when  the  extremity  of  Ucense  and  violence 
compelled  the  step. 

-  What  rendered  so  much  of  the  religion  of  the 

150 


A    FINE   SENSE  OF   DUTY 

time  fine  and  noble  in  its  sincerity,  in  spite  of  the 
mysticism  and  the  morbidness  which  sometimes 
distinguished  it,  was  the  uncompromising  recogni- 
tion and  the  faithful  fulfilment  of  duty  in  the  most 
difficult  circumstances.  It  was  of  the  very  essence 
of  Lady  Glenorchy's  goodness  that  she  should  be 
true  to  her  duty  as  a  wife  and  a  daughter-in-law 
where  it  was  concerned  with  the  husband  who  was 
so  little  deserving  of  her  regard,  and  the  great 
man,  the  father-in-law  who,  while  he  supported 
her  rights,  had  no  sympathy  with  her  convictions, 
and  even  treated  them  with  as  scornful  an  intoler- 
ance as  was  consistent  with  the  respect  and 
consideration  he  felt  bound  to  show  his  son's  wife. 

These  professing  Christians  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  who  were  in  dead  earnest  in  their  pro- 
fession, instead  of  flying  from  domestic  crosses  and 
family  trials  and  indignantly  repudiating  them^ 
accepted  them  with  more  or  less  meekness,  well- 
nigh  welcomed  them,  as  the  saints  of  the  Roman 
Cathohc  Church  welcomed  their  hair  shirts  and 
scourges,  treating  them  as  tests  of  their  sincerity, 
as  God's  disciples  to  bring  His  children  nearer 
to  Himself. 

When  Lord  and  Lady  Glenorchy  came  back 
from  the  Continent  in  1795 — she  was  twenty- 
three  and  he  was  twenty-six  years  of  age — they 
stayed  for  a  little  time  at  his  Enghsh  seat  of  Great 

151 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

Sugnall,  which  happened  to  be  in  the  near  neigh- 
bourhood of  Hawkestone,  the  well-known  family 
mansion  of  Sir  Rowland  Hill  and  the  rallying 
ground  of  the  younger  members  of  the  Hill  family 
and  those  who  were  like-minded,  and  took  a 
marked  side  in  the  religious  controversy  of  the 
day.  And  hereby  hangs  a  tale  which  formed  the 
turning  point  of  Lady  Glenorchy's  life. 

The  two  families  became  acquainted,  and  an 
intimacy  sprang  up  between  Lady  Glenorchy  and 
the  eldest  Miss  Hill,  her  ladyship's  contemporary, 
soon  to  be  her  close,  confidential  friend. 

In  what  Lady  Glenorchy  esteemed  as  her 
unregenerate  days,  she  had  never  been  entirely 
without  serious  moments  and  passing  desires  to 
lead  a  better,  more  useful,  and  more  God-fearing 
life. 

Coming  in  contact  with  the  young  Hills  at  a  crisis 
in  her  history,  when  disenchanted  with  her  pros- 
pects and  satiated  with  the  worldly  pomp  and 
grandeur  which  had  been  coveted  for  her,  of  which 
she  had  obtained  no  small  measure,  she  was  struck 
by  the  superior  peace  and  contentment  of  her  new 
friends.  Their  serious-mindedness — in  more  than 
one  instance  not  without  brilliant  sparkles  of  the 
humour  which  had  a  charm  for  her — in  broad 
contrast  to  the  frivolity  and  heartless  hard- 
headedness  to  Vv^hich   she  had  been  accustomed, 

152 


LADY  GLENORCHY'S  CHARACTER 

instead  of  repelling,  attracted  her.  As  Lady 
Huntingdon  had  felt  before  her,  Lady  Glenorchy 
wished  she  were  Uke  these  thoughtful,  happy 
Hills. 

It  is  clear  enough  that  Lady  Glenorchy  had  not 
Lady  Huntingdon's  mental  power,  her  capacity 
for  forming  independent  conclusions,  though  the 
younger  woman  had  many  counterbalancing  gifts 
as  potent  for  good  in  their  way. 

Lady  Glenorchy  was  intelUgent,  modest,  gra- 
cious, endowed  in  the  beginning  with  a  sweet 
gaiety  of  spirit,  and  what  her  biographer  called  a 
"  pleasantry  "—which  may  be  interpreted  as  an 
innocent  sense  of  fun  and  drollery — over  the 
habitual  suppression  of  which  in  the  days  which 
followed  he  could  not  help  looking  back,  though 
he  had  been  reared  in  the  strict  school  of  Trevecca, 
with  mild  regret. 

While  prudent  for  her  years,  Lady  Glenorchy's 
was  not  a  strong  and  self-sufficing,  rather  a  cling- 
ing, submissive  nature,  dependent  more  or  less 
now  on  one,  now  on  another  friend,  confiding  in 
them  and  trusting  in  them.  She  was  also,  in  spite 
of  her  sense  and  modesty,  liable  to  sudden  impulses 
and  fits  of  enthusiasm,  carrying  her  out  of  herself 
for  the  time  being. 

Withal  she  was  a  young  woman  of  delicate 
constitution,    subjected    to    frequent    prostrating 

153 


THE   COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

attacks  of  illness  ;  above  all  she  was  deprived  of 
the  support  which  would  have  been  afforded  to 
her  by  a  wise  and  worthy  husband. 

A  Uttle  jaded  and  sick  of  her  worldly  rank  and 
riches  in  this  her  early  prime,  she  fell  readily  under 
the  influence  of  Miss  Hill,  Rowland  Hill's  sister. 

Miss  Hill  was  like,  yet  she  was  most  unlike,  her 
famous  brother.  She  was  an  excellent  young 
woman,  ardent  in  those  reforming  Christian 
doctrines  which  her  father,  Sir  Rowland  Hill,  and 
her  mother  had  begun  by  dreading  for  their  son, 
the  Cambridge  undergraduate,  which  they  long 
opposed. 

She  was  without  hesitation  in  the  advocacy  of 
her  principles.  She  could  see  no  other  way  of 
salvation  than  to  come  out  from  the  world  and 
live  as  much  apart  from  it,  and  as  engrossed  with 
the  concerns  of  her  soul,  as  any  cloistered  nun  had 
ever  sought  to  be. 

In  the  long  letters  which  Miss  Hill  wrote  to  Lady 
Glenorchy  she  constantly  urged  this  attitude. 
Her  one  fear  for  her  convert  was  that  she  should 
forget  it  for  a  moment,  and  comply,  however 
guardedly,  with  the  customs  of  the  society  around 
her. 

Lest  Lady  Glenorchy  should  fail  to  understand, 
Miss  Hill  wrote  pages  and  pages  of  explanation 
and  illustration  as  to  what  were  the  veritable 

154 


A   LACK   OF   HUMOUR 

Christian  facts  and  doctrines,  beseeching  the  new 
disciple  to  accept  them,  and  stand  by  them, 
casting  behind  her  every  other  inducement  which 
could  withdraw  her  from  the  one  consideration  of 
moment  to  sinful,  perishing  human  beings. 

The  writer  never  tired  of  these  earnest  discourses. 
She  occasionally  broke  off  in  passionate  ecstasies 
over  the  sublime  beauty  and  condescension  of  the 
work  of  redemption,  and  what  in  the  end  would 
be  its  glorious  triumph.  All  was  transcendent, 
nothing  was  simply  human. 

There  was  no  pause,  no  question,  no  perplexity, 
no  pitiful  turning  of  the  earthly  to  the  earthly,  no 
yearning  over  it  in  the  mystery  of  the  union  of 
matter  and  spirit,  body  and  soul. 

There  is  not  a  scrap,  not  a  grain  of  that  saving 
grace  of  humour  which  was  unquenchable  in 
Berridge's  quips  and  cranks,  while  he  gravely 
warned  young  men  against  the  dangerous 
propensity. 

Neither  was  it  absent  in  Whitefield  nor  in 
Charles  Wesley  when,  unable  to  escape  from  the 
unwarrantable  reproaches  of  his  sister-in-law,  he 
delivered  himself  and  his  brother  John  from  the 
infliction  by  Ufting  up  his  voice  and  quoting  his 
favourite  Virgil  in  the  original,  till  he  silenced  his 
antagonist. 

And  it  was  for  his  inexhaustible  wit  no  less  than 

155 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

for  his  burning  eloquence  that  Rowland  Hill  was 
widely  known.  Had  he  first  learnt  the  practice 
in  the  home  circle,  as  a  defence  against  the  over- 
much solemnity  of  his  excellent  sister  ?  At  the 
same  time,  Rowland  Hill  was  much  attached  to 
his  elder  sister — a  second  mother.  He  cherished 
the  letters  she  wrote  to  him  when  he  was  a 
schoolboy  to  the  end  of  his  days. 

The  acquaintance  and  friendship  between  Lady 
Glenorchy  and  Lady  Huntingdon  began  about 
this  time,  when  it  was  manifest  that  the  younger 
woman  was  giving  in  her  adherence  to  the 
Methodist  interpretation  of  Christianity,  as 
expounded  by  Miss  Hill. 

The  young  wife  was  beginning  to  alarm  her  more 
worldly-minded  friends  by  ordering  her  life  and 
conversation  anew  in  accordance  with  her  altered 
conviction,  though  she  herself  did  not  look  upon 
her  conversion  as  having  been  yet  accomplished. 

The  usual  charge  of  an  unhinged  mind  and  of 
melancholy  madness  was  being  brought  against 
her.  Lord  Glenorchy  was  proposing,  on  the  advice 
of  his  friends,  to  hurry  her  away  from  her  danger- 
ous associates,  the  Hills,  and  from  the  dulness  of 
the  country,  to  Bath  and  to  London,  where  her 
attention  would  be  diverted  to  the  amusements 
and  gaieties  natural  to  her  years  and  station,  in 
which  she  had  formerly  taken  a  Hvely  interest. 

!56 


CONFLICTING   INFLUENCES 

She  might  be  persuaded  to  resume  the  habits, 
within  hmitations,  of  a  young  woman  of  the  world 
which  she  had  perfunctorily  abandoned. 

Lady  Huntingdon  was  certain  to  encourage  by 
every  means  in  her  power  a  young  woman  of  her 
own  rank  in  Lady  Glenorchy's  circumstances, 
exposed  to  the  mingled  ridicule  and  the  quahfied 
persecution  employed  in  such  cases. 

But,  devoted  as  the  Countess  was  in  her  high 
place  to  the  tenets  which  underlay  Methodism, 
and  much  as  she  did  to  promote  their  extension, 
it  is  not  likely  that  the  woman  who,  from  youth 
to  age,  retained  a  large  circle  of  friends  of  all  shades 
of  opinion,  would,  with  a  broader  mind  and  wider 
outlook,  have  desired  to  impose  on  the  novice  the 
stringent  and  conventional  ideas  which  Miss  Hill 
sought  to  impart  to  her. 

There  is  something  to  be  said  on  both  sides  of 
the  question — on  the  side  of  the  nun-like,  shrinking 
abstinence  from  the  world  which  contained  so 
much  evil,  whose  beguiling  power  had  already 
been  felt,  and  on  the  other  side  something  for 
the  easy-minded  and  thoughtless  votaries  of 
pleasure.  Their  protest  was  against  the  self- 
absorption,  or  at  least  the  absorption  in  one  topic, 
which  looked  and  sounded  like  the  "  gloom  which 
saddens  heaven  and  earth,"  and  defies  all  the 
anxious  artifices  of  kindred  affection  to  hghten  it. 

157 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

It  was  too  apt  to  take  the  form  of  sour  self- 
righteousness  and  carping  fault-finding.  It  threw 
a  shadow  over  social  enjoyment,  weakened  many 
a  sincere  friendship,  and  ruptured  even  nearer 
and  more  sacred  ties. 

It  is  hard  to  say  of  different  periods  of  society 
after  the  Christian  era  that  the  men  and  women 
who  have  figured  in  them  have  been  worse  or 
better  than  at  other  epochs.  Vice  may  be  more 
rampant  in  one  century  than  in  another.  Men 
may^  have  sinned  with  a  cart-rope  then,  who 
offend  with  a  silken  thread  to-day  ;  irreverence 
and  heartlessness  may  have  been  more  blatant 
and  more  brutal  in  that  generation,  and  more 
polite  and  plausible  in  this. 

But  who  are  we  to  judge — to  arrogate  to  our- 
selves the  knowledge  of  human  hearts,  to  measure 
their  sympathies  or  their  struggles  ? 

All  one  can  say  is  that  when  levity,  sensuality, 
and  crime  are  in  flagrant  ascendancy,  the  line 
between  those  that  fear  God  and  those  who  fear 
Him  not  is  not  only  drawn,  as  it  must  always  be, 
it  is  marked  with  no  faint,  shadowy  stroke  to 
human  observation,  but  with  a  hard,  deep  score 
which  has  often  something  to  do  with  horror  on 
the  one  hand  and  hatred  on  the  other. 

A  century-and-a-half  ago  the  outward  signs  of 
reprobate  lives  and  of   the    misery    which    they 

158 


FANATICISM   AND   INSENSIBILITY 

caused  were  painted  in  the  strongest  colours,  and 
the  recoil  from  such  iniquity  was  great  in 
proportion. 

If  there  was  to  be  such  a  condition  as  fanaticism 
was  it  not  Hkely  to  succeed  to  the  callous  insensi- 
bihty  to  all  save  the  merest  materialism,  which 
had  led  to  such  hideous  results,  if  it  were  but  to 
purge  away  the  ugly  accumulations  and  to  break 
up  the  stony  hardness  and  deadness  of  hearts  and 
consciences  which  had  antedated  them  ? 

The  wretchedness  which  followed  from  the 
excessive  drinking,  gambling  and  profligacy  which 
prevailed  was  displayed  in  characters  that  no 
eye  could  overlook,  and  ended  occasionally  in 
ghastly  crime. 

The  example  of  Lawrence  Earl  Ferrers  was  a 
case  in  point ;  another  had  to  do  with  the  sins  of 
a  whole  family  of  high  estate  and  raged  round  the 
devoted  head  of  one  of  the  most  "  honourable 
women  "  of  Methodistic  records,  so  prized  for  her 
piety  and  virtue  that  a  monument  was  erected  to 
her  memory  in  John  Wesley's  own  church.  Lady 
Mary  Fitzgerald  was  born  Lady  Mary  Hervey. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  the  first  Earl  of  Bristol. 
She  married  an  Irish  gentleman  of  the  name  of 
Fitzgerald,  whose  outrageous  treatment  of  her 
forced  her  to  adopt  the  rare  course  of  claiming  a 
separate  maintenance. 

159 


THE  COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

The  fierce  quarrels  and  wild  misconduct  of  her 
three  brothers,  who  were  each  in  turn  Earl  of 
Bristol,  were  a  public  scandal. 

The  second  Earl — the  sailor  Earl — married 
privately  the  notorious  Miss  Chudleigh,  one  of 
Queen  Charlotte's  first  maids  of  honour.  The 
Duke  of  Kingston,  unaware  of  her  marriage,  paid 
his  addresses  to  her,  when  she  travelled  down  to 
the  country  church  in  which  her  marriage  had 
been  celebrated,  obtained  access  to  the  parish 
register,  boldly  tore  out  the  incriminating  page 
with  her  own  hands,  and  returned  to  London  and 
married  her  Duke.  The  sequel  was  her  trial  for 
bigamy  before  the  House  of  Lords. 

The  third  brother,  the  clerical  Earl,  was  Bishop 
of  Derry  for  thirty  years,  during  which  he  so 
disgraced  his  mitre  and  crozier  that  he  was 
constrained  to  surrender  them  and  retire  to  Naples, 
where,  keeping  up  the  evil  traditions  of  his  race, 
he  was  for  some  time  in  prison  as  a  just  punishment 
for  his  offences. 

Poor  Lady  Mary's  eldest  son,  George  Robert 
Fitzgerald,  said  to  have  been  one  of  the  most 
elegant  and  accomplished  men  of  his  day,  had  to 
appear  at  the  assizes  of  the  county  Mayo,  when  he 
was  found  guilty  of  subjecting  his  father  to  an 
assault  and  to  illegal  imprisonment,  for  which 
the  son  was  heavily  fined  and  sent  to  jail  for  three 

160 


A   RARE   FRIENDSHIP 

years.  Impenitent  and  untamed  by  the  ignominy 
of  the  sentence,  the  same  elegant  and  accompHshed 
gentleman  in  a  fit  of  passion  shot  his  coachman. 
For  this  crime  he  was  again  tried,  found  guilty, 
and  publicly  executed. 

Is  it  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  hapless  victim 
of  such  a  savage  crew  should  seek  a  refuge  and 
find  rest  and  peace  in  being  one  of  the  most  zealous 
and  pious  of  Wesley's  women  converts  ? 

The  friendship  between  Lady  Glenorchy  and 
Lady  Huntingdon  had  something  of  the  character 
of  the  regard  described  by  Wordsworth  as  existing 
between  the  "  boy  "  and  "  Matthew  seventy-two." 
For  there  were  more  than  thirty  years  of  difference 
between  the  ages  of  the  women.  Lady  Hunting- 
don's threescore  was  far  in  advance  of  Lady 
Glenorchy's    twenty-four  years. 

Accordingly,  in  one  of  the  letters  which  passed 
between  them.  Lady  Glenorchy  gratefully  acknow- 
ledges the  motherly  tenderness  and  affection  which 
Lady  Huntingdon  had  frequently  shown  her.  In 
what  was  probably  the  first  letter  on  Lady 
Glenorchy's  part,  written  about  1765,  the  ex- 
pression of  her  admiration  and  esteem  amounts 
to  reverence  : — 

"  My  dear  Madam, — 
"  How  shall  I  express  the  sense  I  have  of  your 
goodness  ?     It  is  impossible  in  words.     But  my 

161 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

comfort  is  that  the  Lord  knows  the  grateful 
thoughts  of  my  heart,  and  He  will  amply  reward 
you  for  the  kindness  you  have  shown  a  poor 
unworthy  creature  whom  blindness  and  ignorance 
render  an  object  of  pity.  When  you  say  your 
heart  is  attached  to  me  I  tremble  lest  I  should 
prove  an  additional  cross  to  you  in  the  end,  and 
the  pain  I  suffer  in  the  apprehension  is  unspeak- 
able. I  hope  the  Lord  permits  it  as  a  spur  to  me 
to  be  watchful  and  to  keep  near  to  Him,  who  alone 
is  able  to  keep  me  from  falling.  I  can  truly  say 
that  next  to  the  favour  of  God  my  utmost  ambition 
is  to  be  found  worthy  of  the  regard  which  your 
ladyship  is  pleased  to  honour  me  with,  and  to  be 
one  of  those  who  shall  make  up  the  crown  of  re- 
joicing for  you  in  the  Day  of  our  Lord.  I  am  sorry 
to  take  up  more  of  your  precious  time  than  is 
needful  to  express  my  gratitude  for  the  obligations 
your  ladyship  favoured  me  with.  I  will  only  add 
that  I  ever  am  with  the  greatest  respect  and 
affection,  my  dear  and  much  honoured  Madam, 

*'  Your  most  obedient  servant, 

"  W.  Glenorchy." 


162 


CHAPTER   XII 

The  Retirement  of  Taymouth — Lady  Glenorchy's  Insensibility  to 
Scenery — Her  Conversion  in  1765 — The  First  Question  of  the 
Assembly's  Catechism — The  Answer  in  the  Bible  and  Prayer — 
A  Creature  Dwelling  Apart  while  Seeking  to  Minister  to  all  in 
Trouble — No  Talent  for  Preaching  without  Confidence  in  Herself — ■ 
A  Shadow  over  her  Spiritual  Life — Her  Sacred  Songs — Her  Gentle 
Unreasonableness — The  Sacrament  at  Dull — Her  Preciousness  to 
her  Unsympathetic  People — The  Terrible  Sutherland  Bereavement 
— Lady  Alva's  Strange  Encounter — The  Little  Countess  afterwards 
Duchess  Countess  of  Sutherland — Lady  Glenorchy's  Diaries. 

Lady  Glenorchy  spent  the  most  of  the  summers 
and  autumns  of  her  not  very  long  Ufe  at  Taymouth. 
She  has  often  recorded  her  fondness  for  the  place 
on  account  of  its  quiet  and  retirement,  in  spite  of 
the  Highland  hospitality  dispensed  in  the  style  of 
the  great  man  of  the  country-side.  It  made  the 
few  unpretending  inns  almost  uncalled  for  in  the 
wilds  where  the  Quahty  were  concerned.  Had 
they  not  as  a  matter  of  course  free  quarters  under 
the  roof  of  their  chief,  the  head  of  their  branch  of 
the  clan  Campbell  ?  Were  not  his  friends,  gentle 
and  simple  of  every  degree,  who  had  the  sHghtest 
claim  to  his  acquaintance,  entitled  at  least  to  the 
three  days,  "  the  rest  day,  the  dressed  day,  and 
the  pressed  day  "  of  Scotch  visiting. 

But,  while  Lady  Glenorchy  was  attached  to  the 
spot  on  other  grounds,  there  is  not  the  shghtest 
evidence  that  the  grand  scenery  of  mountain  and 
flood,  loch  and  river,  majestic  crags  where  the 
eagles  built  their  nests,  deep-riven  corries  where 

163 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

the  snow  of  December  still  lingered  in  June,  and 
helped  to  form  the  rushing  torrents  of  which  the 
red  deer  drank  their  fill,  made  any  strong  or 
abiding  impression  on  her  mind. 

Tru^;  Doctor  Johnson's  verdict  on  the  High- 
lands, with  the  **  horrors  "  of  yesterday  standing 
for  the  "  sublimities  "  of  to-day,  was  a  thing  of  the 
near  past.- 

.The"  very  language  which  Lady  Glenorchy 
applies  to  the  landscape,  among  whose  striking 
features  she  went  out  like  Isaac  of  old  to  meditate, 
confirms  the  idea  that  her  regard  for  Nature  was 
of  the  kind  which  is  best  pleased  with  the  smiling 
Lowlands. 

She  writes  of  "  the  fields  "  where  she  walks.  A 
century- and- a- half  ago  the  fields  proper  near  Tay- 
mouth,  the  patches  of  golden  oats  and  pale  bear, 
were  few  and  far  between,  swallowed  up  by  the 
great  stretches  of  heather-clad  moor,  the  woods 
of  sombre  fir  and  feathery  birch,  the  spreading 
green  "  haughs,"  the  frowning  "  bens "  among 
which  they  were  set. 

The  reason  above  all  reasons  which  sealed  Lady 
Glenorchy' s  eyes  to  the  natural  world  around  her 
was  that  another  world  had  come  between  and 
engrossed  her  whole  attention.  The  crisis  of  her 
life,  which  ruled  its  every  hour  henceforth,  had 
arrived  and  taken  possession  of  her. 

164 


LADY  GLENORCHY'S  CONVERSION 

The  work  which  Miss  Hill's  example  began  in 
the  soft  rural  surroundings  of  Sugnall  and  Hawke- 
stone  reached  its  fruition  at  Taymouth,  which 
Lady  Glenorchy  always  viewed  as  the  scene  of  her 
conversion.  She  has  left  an  account  in  her  own 
words  of  the  event  which  she  beUeved  to  be  the 
turning-point  in  her  history,  the  new  birth  which 
stood  beside  the  earthly  birth,  as  equalling,  nay 
surpassing  it  in  importance. 

After  writing  of  the  fleeting  rehgious  effect 
made  upon  her  during  what  she  held  to  have  been 
the  misspent  twenty  years  of  her  first  youth,  when 
she  had  been  ignorant  of  God's  righteousness  and 
Christ's  redemption,  she  dwells  on  the  pride  and 
vain  glory  with  which  she  contemplated  her  own 
patience  under  the  crosses  and  trials  which  had 
been  sent  to  her  after  her  marriage.  She  describes 
her  acquaintance  with  the  family  at  Hawkestone, 
and  the  influence  they  had  over  her  in  making 
her  desire  to  be  like  them. 

She  records  the  struggles  with  which  she  gave 
up  the  pleasures  of  the  world  (its  balls,  theatres, 
etc.,  etc.),  when,  though  appearing  firm  and  cheer- 
ful, she  often  broke  down  and  was  at  the  point 
of  giving  up  the  contest.  She  arrives  at  the 
one  of  her  many  illnesses  which  turned  the 
scale. 

In  the  course  of  the  fever,  she  says  :  "  The  first 

165 

i»—t»tf») 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

question  of  the  Assembly's  Catechism,  '  What  is 
the  chief  end  of  man  ? '  rose  up  in  my  mind  as  if 
someone  had  asked  it.  And  the  answer,  *  To 
glorify  God  and  to  enjoy  Him  for  ever,'  which  had 
been  so  far  from  my  experience,  filled  me  with 
shame  and  confusion. 

"  In  the  low  state  of  sickness  in  which  I  lay,  the 
prospect  of  Death  and  Judgment  filled  me  with 
remorse  and  terror." 

She  had  no  friend  to  whom  to  appeal.  What 
were  styled  "  the  means  of  grace  "  were  scant  at 
Taymouth.  At  the  Parish  Church  the  principal 
sermons  were  in  Gaelic,  which  Lady  Glenorchy 
did  not  understand.  It  was  only  occasionally 
that  an  English  sermon  was  preached,  while  she 
did  not  seem  to  be  on  her  usual  friendly  terms 
with  the  minister. 

Miss  Hill  wrote  opportunely,  and  her  friend 
eagerly  replied,  asking  advice  and  faithfully 
responding  to  the  counsel  she  received — to  search 
the  Scriptures  and  be  instant  in  prayer. 

One  day  in  particular  Lady  Glenorchy  writes 
again  :  "I  took  the  Bible  in  my  hand  and  fell 
upon  my  knees,  beseeching  Him  with  much  im- 
portunity to  reveal  His  will  to  me  by  His  own 
Word.  .  .  .  After  this  prayer  was  finished,  I 
opened  the  Bible  then  in  my  hands  and  read  part 
of  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  where  our  state  by 

166 


A   TRANSFORMATION 

nature  and  the  way  of  redemption  through  a 
propitiatory  sacrifice  are  set  clearly  forth. 

"  The  eyes  of  my  understanding  were  opened 
and  saw  wisdom  and  beauty  in  the  way  of  salvation 
by  a  crucified  Redeemer.  ..." 

This  was  in  the  summer  of  1765,  and  Lady 
Glenorchy  goes  on  to  state  :  "  Since  that  time  I 
have  had  many  ups  and  downs  in  my  Christian 
course,  but  I  have  never  lost  sight  of  Jesus  as  the 
Saviour  of  His  world,  though  I  have  often  had 
doubts  of  my  own  interest  in  Him." 

Dating  from  these  days,  there  was  a  creature 
in  that  high  and  mighty  world  of  Taymouth,  but 
not  of  it ;  among  her  fellow-creatures  at  home 
and  abroad,  yet  practically  quite  apart.  No 
vestal  virgin,  no  cloistered  nun,  while  dwelling  in 
the  centre  of  a  full  and  complicated  life  with  its 
compelling  claims,  could  have  kept  herself  more 
asunder  in  spirit — except  for  such  intercourse  as 
could  not  be  avoided  in  the  company  over  which 
she  presided.  Her  biographer  thus  relates  her 
practice  : 

"  Unattended  she  traversed  the  fields,  walked 
with  God,  recounted  His  kindnesses  and  His  grace, 
and  with  faith  unfeigned  offered  up  fervent  prayer 
and  praises.  ...  In  her  wanderings  she  often 
communicated  sacred  instruction  to  the  poor.  .  .  . 
She  generously  and  sympathetically  distributed 

167 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

alms  to  the  necessitous  she  met  by  the  way, 
and  then  returned  to  her  closet  to  record  in  her 
diary  how  unworthy  and  how  sinful  and  how 
unprofitable  she  felt  herself  to  be." 

Looking  back  through  the  long  vista  of  years 
one  can  see  her  who  has  so  long  ago  joined  the 
great  majority,  as  if  she  were  already  a  spirit, 
ghding  as  often  as  she  could  get  away  from  the 
throng  of  ordinary  men  and  women — let  their  talk 
be  ever  so  resounding  in  the  common  speech  of 
a  lower  sphere,  with  thoughts  and  words  which 
fell  with  rude  incongruity  on  ears  which  had 
been  touched  to  divine  harmonies. 

Yonder  she  is  in  her  old  quaint  dress  of  mantua 
or  pehsse,  and  little  hat,  or  of  mob  cap  and  sacque, 
her  slender,  still  girlish  figure  and  refined  face, 
with  the  rapt  expression  which  so  often  held  it 
absolutely  distinct  from  the  faces  around  her. 

Her  head  has  no  aureole  betokening  her  sainth- 
ness,  but  had  she  belonged  to  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church,  steps  would  have  been  taken  ere  now  so 
that  there  might  have  been  in  due  time  a  "  Saint 
WiUielma"  in  their  calendar. 

A  very  sweet,  humble  and  somewhat  sad  saint, 
for  her  gentle,  modest  spirit  was  such  that  she  was 
always  distrusting — not  her  Lord  and  her  God 
— but  her  weak  and  worthless  self.  She  was 
always  straining  her  energies  and  mortifying  her 

168 


A  SAD  SAINT 

inclinations  in  order  to  take  up  some  task  which 
she  was  persuaded  was  to  the  honour  of  her 
Master,  but  which  went  against  the  grain  with  her. 

She  had  no  talent  for  preaching  and  teaching 
such  as  her  friend  Miss  Hill  could  claim.  To 
rebuke  or  even  to  surprise  and  startle  her  worldly 
neighbours,  by  calling  upon  them  to  consider  their 
ways  and  prepare  for  their  latter  end,  was  a  tre- 
mendous task  from  which  she  shrank,  and  of  which 
she  was  tempted  to  think  herself,  in  whom  she  saw 
so  little  good,  incapable. 

She  could  never  arrive  at  that  assurance  of 
acceptance  with  her  Maker  after  which  she  craved 
with  a  sick  longing. 

Her  biographer  has  explained  the  failure  in  two 
ways.  She  did  not  trust  all  in  all  to  the  finished 
work  of  her  Saviour.  She  was  beset  with  a 
haunting  sense  of  her  own  insufficiency — her 
ceaseless  sins  (though  she  did  not  beheve  in  that 
attainment  of  perfection  in  this  world  which  Mr. 
Wesley,  as  distinct  from  Mr.  Whitefield  and  her 
own  Church  of  Scotland,  proclaimed). 

The  other  and  more  mystical  explanation  was 
that,  while  her  spirit  was  right  with  God,  the  assur- 
ance of  faith  was  the  gift  of  God's  Spirit,  which 
might  or  might  not  be  vouchsafed  in  God's  free 
grace,  even  to  the  most  sincere  and  exemplary 
of  believers.     Be  that  as  it  may,  the  deprivation,  to 

16W 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

which  she  submitted  meekly,  as  she  did  to  the 
denial  of  other  blessings,  served  more  than  any- 
thing else  to  cast  a  cloud  over  her  spiritual  Hfe — 
that  hfe  which  was  well-nigh  all  in  all  to  her,  and 
it  was  the  most  powerful  weapon  in  subduing  the 
original  gaiety  and  vivacity  of  her  temper. 

You  can  still  see  her,  if  you  look  long  enough 
and  strenuously  enough,  stealing  away  to  engage 
in  the  religious  exercises  to  which  she  was  so 
devoted.  In  order  that  they  might  be  in  less 
danger  of  interruption,  she  had  a  retreat  out  of 
doors  known  only  to  herself,  where  she  went  to 
meditate  and  pray. 

One  of  her  natural  gifts  was  the  tuneful  voice 
which  had  been  carefully  cultivated.  But  from 
the  time  of  her  conversion  she  rarely  sang  any 
save  sacred  songs,  chiefly  the  metrical  version  of 
those  Psalms  of  David  in  which  the  Church  of 
Scotland  conducted  for  the  most  part  its  service 
of  praise.  The  version  is  primitive — sometimes 
rough  and  uncouth — but  it  is  always  distinguished 
by  manly  strength  in  its  pleading,  and  it  has  many 
a  gush  of  tenderness  and  pathos. 

When  Lady  Glenorchy's  gentle,  fluttering  spirit 
was  at  peace,  or  when  it  burst  its  bonds  and  rose  in 
fitful  triumph  and  bhssful  gladness,  she  deUghted, 
she  tells  us,  in  singing  aloud  those  Psalms  in  the 
solitude  of  her  walks,  where  no  mortal  ears,  and 

170 


SCOTTISH   PSALMODY 

only  the  innocent  air — charged,  alas  !  so  often 
with  discords  far  removed  from  these  humble, 
holy  strains — could  bear  them  on  its  wings. 

Surely  in  that  pastoral,  mountainous  land,  the 
confiding  cry  of  "  The  Lord's  my  Shepherd,"  and 
the  steadfast  assertion,  "  I  to  the  hills  will  Hft 
my  eyes,"  were  in  her  repertory. 

And  to  those  who  know  and  have  pondered  over 
her  story,  so  long  as  Taymouth  Castle  stands  in 
its  ancient  state  and  bounty,  so  long  as  the 
infinitely  grander  works  of  God's  hands  in  the 
nature  around  bring  strangers  from  afar  to 
look  upon  them  with  admiration  and  awe,  a 
supernatural  element  will  enter  into  the  scene. 

It  will  be  in  connection  with  the  presence  of  the 
tender  young  being,  forlorn  in  the  middle  of  her 
earthly  rank  and  riches,  because  she  had  not  yet 
reached  the  heaven  where  she  fain  would  be,  and 
because  she  was  so  full  of  its  spirit — while  still  in 
the  middle  of  human  surroundings — she  who  was 
constantly  reproaching  herself  for  looking  back, 
and  setting  her  heart  upon  them,  though  in  reality 
they  had  become  strange  and  distasteful  to  her. 

She  was  not  always  reasonable  in  her  religious 
duties,  as  she  regarded  them.  She  vindicated  her 
right  to  be  recognised  as  a  daughter  of  Eve — no 
less  than  a  saint — by  the  provocation  she  could  not 
restrain    herself    from    giving    her    unregenerate 

171 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

relatives  by  actions  out  of  proportion  to  her  health 
and  strength.  She  would  rise  as  early  as  half -past 
five  in  the  morning  that  she  might  have  more  time 
for  private  devotion.  She  was  fain  to  fast  till  her 
weak  body  cried  out  in  protest.  Each  birthday 
was  kept  as  a  day  of  special  fasting  and  prayer. 

She  was  fond  of  attending  the  dispensing  of  the 
neighbouring  sacraments,  and  in  town  they  were 
fairly  within  her  reach,  but  in  the  country  it  was 
different.  She  writes  on  one  occasion  when  she 
had  an  impulse  that  she  must  join  in  the  sacrament 
at  Dull,  and  Dull  could  only  be  got  at  on  horse- 
back, while  the  weather  threatened  rain.  She 
would  not  be  deterred,  and  she  refers  to  her 
gratitude  for  the  rain  having  passed  off,  and  for  the 
fact  that  she  had  been  greeted  on  her  return  by 
nothing  worse  than  laughter  at  her  expedition. 
The  inference  was  that  the  opposition  received  was 
apt  to  be  of  a  less  cheerful  and  of  a  stormier 
character. 

For  it  came  in  course  of  time  to  be  proved 
beyond  doubt  that  the  fragile,  spiritually-minded 
wife  and  daughter-in-law  was  a  precious  possession 
to  the  unsatisfactory,  tyrannical  husband,  and  the 
lordly,  common-sense  father-in-law. 

Like  many  sensitive,  imaginative  people,  she 
was  not  without  a  tendency  to  regard  as  signs  (who 
dare  say  they  might  not  have  been  ?)  seeming 

172 


COINCIDENCES  OR  SIGNS? 

coincidences  such  as  texts  of  sermons  happening 
to  be  the  very  words  of  Scripture  to  which  she  had 
just  been  turning  for  consolation.  This  is  an 
instance  in  point — "  Being  much  dejected  (at 
communion)  I  said  to  myself :  *  Will  the  Lord  hide 
Himself  for  ever  ?  Will  He  be  favourable  no 
more  ? '  At  that  instant  Doctor  Webster  began 
to  serve  a  table  with  these  words  :  '  Perhaps 
someone  is  saying  :  '  Will  the  Lord  hide  Himself 
for  ever  ?  Will  He  be  favourable  no  more  ? ' 
Let  such  take  comfort.  The  Lord  is  nigh,  though 
you  perceive  Him  not.  He  will  yet  come,  though 
not  now.'  At  this  moment  I  felt  that  the  Lord 
was  nigh— that  He  gave  a  persuasion  that  He 
would  visit  me  in  His  own  time.  My  heart  repHed  : 
*  It  is  well ;  let  the  Lord  come  in  His  own  time. 
I  will  still  wait  on  Him,  and  put  my  trust  in 
Him." 

In  the  summer  of  1766  Lady  Glenorchy  was 
presiding  over  her  father-in-law's  great  household 
when  the  even  tenor  of  her  way  at  Taymouth  was 
interrupted  by  news  which  affected  her  deeply. 
The  account  came  of  the  last  stages  in  the  terrible 
tragedy  which  had  begun  at  Dunrobin  in  the 
previous  winter. 

Neither  of  the  biographers  of  Lady  Huntingdon 
and  Lady  Glenorchy  gives  the  particulars  of  the 
death  of  the  little  child  which  serve  as  the  keynote 

173 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

to  the  sad  domestic  drama.  Doubtless  considera- 
tion for  the  feehngs  of  the  surviving  relatives 
caused  the  reticence  in  the  first  place.  But  the 
details  of  the  piteous  story  have  not  been  forgotten 
in  Scotland. 

Young  Lord  and  Lady  Sutherland  were  a 
peculiarly  attractive  couple.  Lady  Huntingdon, 
who  saw  them  first  under  the  heavy  cloud  which 
was  destined  to  crush  them,  thus  describes  them  : 
**  Never  have  I  seen  a  more  lovely  couple.  They 
may,  indeed,  with  justice  be  called  the  Flower  of 
Scotland,  and  such  amiability  of  disposition — so 
teachable,  so  mild !  They  have  indeed  been  cast 
in  Nature's  finest  mould.  Bowed  down  to  the  earth 
by  grief,  then  almost  inconsolable  for  the  loss  of 
their  daughter,  the  good  Providence  has,  I  hope, 
directed  them  to  this  place,  in  order  to  divert 
their  attention  from  their  recent  loss  and  lead 
them  to  the  fountain  of  living  waters  from  which 
to  draw  all  the  consolation  and  comfort  they  stand 
in  need  of.  May  the  word  of  the  Lord  be  power- 
fully appHed  to  their  hearts  in  this  season  of  trial ! 
Dear  Lady  Glenorchy  is  exceedingly  anxious  on 
'their  account." 

Lord  and  Lady  Sutherland  were  deeply  attached 
to  each  other — a  congenial  pair  who  formed  a 
matrimonial  contrast  that  must  have  struck  home 
to  Lady  Glenorchy's  gentle,  affectionate  heart — 

174 


THE  SUTHERLANDS 

made  for  all  domestic  happiness.  The  couple  were 
equally  devoted  to  their  little  daughter  of  nearly 
two  years  of  age,  then  their  only  child. 

Lord  Sutherland  was  considered  a  model  of  all 
that  was  good  in  his  class,  but  he  was  not  inde- 
pendent of  the  customs  of  his  generation,  or  wholly 
unaffected  by  them.  On  the  third  of  January, 
1766,  he  rose  from  his  dinner  table,  flushed  with 
wine,  and  joined  Lady  Sutherland  in  the  draw- 
ing-room where  she  had  her  little  daughter  with 
her.  Taking  the  child  in  his  arms  and  tossing  her 
in  the  air  for  his  pleasure  and  hers,  his  unsteady 
hand  shpped,  failed  to  catch  her,  and  she  fell 
with  violence,  her  head  striking  the  oaken  floor. 
Concussion  of  the  brain  and  death  ensued,  either 
on  the  spot  or  within  a  few  hours. 

The  anguish  of  the  young  parents  with  the 
remorse  of  the  hapless  father  may  be  conceived. 

Three  months  later,  as  if  to  replace  her  dead 
sister,  a  second  daughter  was  born  to  Lord  and 
Lady  Sutherland  on  the  birthday  of  the  first,  but 
the  relatives  of  the  couple,  seeing  how  grief  still 
weighed  on  their  spirits,  thought  that  change  of 
air  and  scene  was  desirable  for  them,  and  urged 
on  them  a  visit  to  Bath. 

Lady  Glenorchy  recommended  her  sister  and 
brother  to  the  kind  offices  of  Lady  Huntingdon, 
who   showed   her   goodwill   characteristically   by 

175 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

carrying  them  to  hear  Mr.  Whitefield  at  her 
chapel. 

But  soon  after  Lord  and  Lady  Sutherland's 
arrival  in  Bath  he  was  struck  down  with  fever, 
under  which  he  lay  for  a  period  of  fifty-four  days. 
For  twenty-one  days  and  nights  his  young  wife 
never  left  his  room.  Neither  Lady  Huntingdon 
nor  any  other  friend  could  induce  her  to  quit  her 
post.  Overcome  by  exhaustion  and  sorrow,  she 
herself  sank  and  died  seventeen  days  before  the 
death  of  Lord  Sutherland.  He  was  in  his  thirty- 
first  and  she  in  her  twenty-fifth  year. 

Lady  Huntingdon  mentions  the  extraordinary 
interest  and  concern  which  the  tragedy  excited 
in  the  gay  watering-place. 

With  what  sorrow  must  the  tidings  have  been 
received  when  they  had  travelled  as  far  as  the 
mountain  shades  of  Taymouth,  and  been  read  by 
her,  who  had  thus  lost  her  nearest  and  dearest, 
the  companion  of  her  childhood  and  youth ! 

A  singular  instance  of  the  terrible  intervals  of 
suspense  caused  by  the  slow  communication  of 
news  in  those  days,  occurred  in  connection  with 
the  death  of  Lady  Sutherland. 

Her  mother,  Lady  Alva,  had  by  some  strange 
accident,  failed  to  be  made  acquainted  with  the 
death  of  her  daughter,  while  she  had  been  apprised 
of  the  death  of  her  son-in-law.     Hard  woman  of 

176 


THE  DUCHESS  OF  SUTHERLAND 

the  world  as  she  was  known  to  have  been,  she  was 
hurrying  with  what  speed  the  times  afforded  to  the 
help  of  the  bereaved  woman  who  had  already  been 
dead  for  three  weeks.  Alighting  from  her  carriage 
at  an  inn  on  the  road  to  Bath,  Lady  Alva  saw  two 
hearses  with  a  train  of  mourners  preparing  to  set 
out.  On  asking  an  explanation,  she  was  told  that 
the  hearses  contained  the  bodies  of  Lord  and  Lady 
Sutherland  on  their  way  to  Scotland  for  interment 
in  the  Royal  Chapel  at  Holyrood.  Poor  mother ! 
in  what  awful  circumstances  she  met  midway  the 
daughter  to  whom  she  was  hastening. 

The  baby  daughter  of  the  late  Earl  and  Countess 
was  in  her  own  right  Countess  of  Sutherland  and 
heiress  of  the  great  Sutherland  estates.  She  was 
the  joint  charge  of  Lady  Glenorchy  and  Lady 
Alva.  She  grew  up  and  married  the  Marquis  of 
Stafford,  and  through  him,  on  his  creation  as 
Duke  of  Sutherland,  acquired  the  title  of  Duchess, 
in  addition  to  the  inherited  Countess.  She  was 
the  Duchess- Countess  of  Sutherland — a  much 
respected  power  in  the  North,  living  to  an 
honourable  old  age. 

It  was  at  Taymouth  that  Lady  Glenorchy  began 
the  diary  of  her  soul's  welfare,  which  she  did  not 
even  write  in  an  ordinary  room,  but  in  the  closet 
in  the  Castle  sacred  to  prayer,  or  in  that  other 
retreat  in  the  grounds  to  which  she  resorted  for  the 

177 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

same  purpose.  The  diary  hardly  contains  a  direct 
word  or  allusion  to  the  ordinary  events  of  the  family. 
Indeed,  with  only  two  exceptions,  there  is  not  an 
incident  given  with  mundane  details.  The  one 
incident  is  quoted  in  the  first  page,  when  she 
bemoans  her  loss  of  temper  in  an  argument  on 
faith  indulged  in  with  Auchalladair,  the  agent  of 
Lord  Breadalbane,  and  the  familiar  friend  of  the 
house.     The  second  incident  occurred  later. 

The  journal — the  entries  in  which  end  generally 
with  a  prayer — is  a  record  of  the  Lord's  dealings 
with  the  spirit  He  had  created,  and  that  spirit's 
obedience  or  resistance — whether  the  light  of  God's 
countenance  had  shone  on  the  inner  woman,  or 
whether  with  that  light  withdrawn  for  her  offences, 
there  were  only  darkness  and  deadness,  danger 
and  tribulation. 

Such  diaries  were  not  uncommon  in  Lady 
Glenorchy's  day.  They  were  highly  approved  of 
by  the  salt  of  the  earth  of  the  period.  They  were 
believed  to  be  decidedly  conducive  to  growth  in 
grace  in  individual  cases  as  they  may  have  been 
in  ensuring  watchfulness  against  besetting  sins. 

Lady  Glenorchy  adopted  the  practice  and 
continued  it  to  the  end  of  her  days,  till  the  diaries 
filled  numerous  volumes. 

To  a  later  generation  the  objection  to  keeping 
such  a  record  is  not  so  much  that  it  tends  to  foster 

178 


THE  OBJECTION   TO  DIARIES 

self-righteousness — a  result  which  was  conspicuous 
by  its  absence  in  Lady  Glenorchy's  experience — it 
is  that  a  diary  of  the  kind  is  a  continual  feeling 
of  the  spiritual  pulse.  If  the  effect  bears  any 
resemblance  to  the  frequent  feeling  of  the  bodily 
pulse  and  the  taking  of  the  bodily  temperature,  a 
symptom  which  is  apt  to  be  found  among  chronic 
invalids,  or  sufferers  from  hypochondria,  the  end  is 
not  cheering,  and  hardly  justifies  the  means.  The 
physical  sequel  does  not  produce  soundness  of 
constitution  or  vigour  of  frame. 


179 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Lady  Glenorchy  at  Holyrood — Indifference  to  its  History — Her 
General  Friendliness — "  Means  of  Grace  "  in  Edinburgh — Weekly 
Religious  Meetings  Presided  over  by  the  Rev.  Robert  Walker 
— The  Company  Gathered  Together — A  Glimpse  of  the  Group — 
Lady  Maxwell — Niddry  Wynd  Chapel — Objections  to  the  Liberal 
Views  with  which  it  was  Planned — Doctor  Webster's  Support — 
Wesley  in  Edinburgh — Conference  between  Wesley  and  Webster 
with  Lady  Glenorchy  for  Audience — Lady  Glenorchy's  Separating 
herself  from  the  Wesleyans  and  from  the  Methodists,  also  Offending 
both  Lady  Maxwell  and  Lady  Huntingdon — Lord  Glenorchy's  Sale 
of  his  Estate  of  Sugna  1 — Miss  Hill  permitted  to  pay  Long  Visits 
to  Taymouth — Lord  Glenorchy's  Purchase  of  Barnton  with  the 
Chapel  he  suffered  to  be  erected  there — First  Chaplain  who 
Officiated  in  Niddry  Wynd  Chapel. 

In  Edinburgh  Lord  Breadalbane  and  his  family 
occupied  the  rooms  designed  for  Royalty  and  its 
Court  in  Holyrood  Palace.  But  the  dimmed  and 
faded  splendour  and  the  romantic  atmosphere, 
with  the  tragedies  of  kings  and  queens,  no  more 
appealed  to  Lady  Glenorchy's  imagination  than 
did  the  Highland  hills  with  their  hoary  peaks, 
their  foaming  waterfalls,  the  lonely,  still  lochans, 
and  "  the  bonnie  blooming  heather,"  which  spoke 
to  her  with  enticing  words  she  did  not  hear.  She 
could  not  withdraw  that  far-away  look  in  her  eyes 
which  were  constantly  fixed  on  the  beauty  beyond 
mortal  ken,  on  the  fair  hills  of  heaven  and  the 
city  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  with  its  gates  of  pearl 
and  its  golden  streets,  where  there  was  no  night 
and  no  need  of  the  sun  by  day,  because  God  and 

180 


THE   HISTORIC  SENSE   LACKING 

the  Lamb  of  God  were  there  and  were  the  Hght 
thereof. 

The  past  was  no  more  to  Lady  Glenorchy  than 
the  present.  It  was  blotted  out  by  the  immensely 
grander  future. 

What  were  the  Courts  of  the  unhappy  Mary, 
of  the  Charles  whom  the  Church  of  England  called 
"  the  Martyr,"  and  of  that  other  wandering 
Charles  whose  visit  to  the  palace  of  his  ancestors 
was  but  of  yesterday,  in  comparison  with  the 
assemblies  which  she  sometimes  succeeded  in 
gathering  to  hear  the  Word  of  Life  preached  in 
the  "great  drawing-room" — the  audience- 
chamber  which  had  witnessed  such  different 
doings,  fierce  brawls  and  heedless  merry-making  ? 

The  past  was  very  much  a  blank  to  Lady 
Glenorchy,  even  the  present  seemed  to  escape  her. 
The  most  singular  omission  of  all  in  her  letters  and 
diary  is  the  name,  or  indeed  any  reference — unless 
in  one  brief  allusion — to  the  little  Countess  of 
Sutherland,  Lady  Glenorchy' s  only  sister's  only 
child,  of  whom  she  was  nominal  guardian  and  one 
of  her  nearest  kindred. 

In  the  single  sentence  or  two  in  which  Lady 
Glenorchy  can  be  understood  to  refer  to  her 
niece,  she  writes  of  a  child  to  whom  she  wishes 
to  teach  something,  without  success,  and  she 
makes  the  remark  that  it  is  difficult  for  her  to  deal 

181 
13— (aaoo) 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

with  children.  Truly,  Willielma  Glenorchy  was  a 
saint  shut  up  to  the  one  communion — that  with 
her  God. 

At  the  same  time  it  would  be  a  grave  mistake 
to  imagine  she  was  hostile  or  even  indifferent  to 
kindred  and  friendly  obUgations.  She  was  careful 
to  maintain  pleasant  relations  with  all  connected 
with  her.  It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  she  was 
greatly  concerned  for  their  spiritual  welfare,  in 
which  their  views  were  far  removed  from  hers. 
She  mentions,  as  with  a  little  gasp  which  the 
speaking  of  the  effort  occasioned,  her  thankfulness 
for  having  been  enabled  to  talk  of  rehgion  to  her 
mother.  She  writes  at  another  time  of  having 
prayed  for  her  mother  "  with  strong  crying  and 
tears." 

The  entire  reliance  upon  her  by  her  husband 
and  his  father  was  abundantly  proved.  She  was 
careful  not  to  visit  England  without  "  waiting  " 
upon  Lord  Glenorchy's  half-sister,  the  Marchioness 
de  Gray.  To  her  chosen  friends,  Miss  Hill,  Lady 
Maxwell,  Lady  Henrietta  Hope,  her  warm  affection 
never  wavered.  Of  her  ministers  she  was  the 
staunchest  and  most  loyal  champion. 

In  Edinburgh,  though  Lady  Glenorchy  had  to 
submit  to  more  frequent  intrusions  from  the 
company  for  which  she  cared  not  at  all,  while  she 
had  the  burden  of  receiving  and  entertaining  the 

182 


RELIGIOUS  MEETINGS 

visitors,  she  had  the  compensation  of  the  greater 
command  of  ordinances  and  of  congenial  society. 
She  is  not  so  lonely  a  figure,  with  such  an  air  of 
having  descended  from  the  skies  in  the  Canongate 
and  the  High  Street,  and  the  squares  of  the  new 
town. 

Once  a  week  she  attended  religious  meetings 
held  either  at  the  house  of  one  of  the  members 
or  at  the  manse  of  her  minister,  the  Rev.  Robert 
Walker,  senior  minister  of  the  High  Church,  and 
colleague  to  Blair,  of  literary  fame.  Walker  was 
less  a  literary  man  than  the  gentleman  whose 
sermons  were  stigmatised  by  more  enthusiastic 
and  evangelical  Christians  as  "  mere  moral 
essays,"  while  the  name  of  the  Rev.  Robert,  his 
brother  in  the  pulpit,  has  descended  fragrant  to 
us  for  the  active  piety  of  the  man,  as  well  as  for 
the  moderation,  good  sense  and  that  touch  of 
humour  which,  like  a  touch  of  nature,  makes  the 
whole  world  kin. 

Among  the  women  in  the  httle  gathering  were 
some  of  Lady  Glenorchy's  friends,  whose  names 
one  loves  to  chronicle.  There  were  the  ladies 
Leven,  Northesk,  and  Banff,  Lady  Maxwell, 
Lady  Ross  BailUe,  and  Mrs.  Baihe  Walker,  the 
wife  of  one  of  the  city  magistrates. 

The  reader  may  see  the  group  also,  if  she  or  he 
wishes,  in  their  carriages  and  sedan  chairs,  in  their 

183 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

caleches  and  mode  cloaks,  some  of  them  carrying 
in  their  roomy  pockets,  along  with  their  pocket 
Bibles,  their  dainty  jewelled  snuff-boxes,  that  a 
pinch  of  the  contents  taken  in  time  might  ward 
off  an  inopportune  drowsiness. 

Lady  Glenorchy  was  probably  the  youngest  of 
the  party,  in  which  her  chief  friend  was  Lady 
Maxwell,  another  of  the  Nithsdale  clan.  Lady 
Maxwell  was  the  youngest  of  the  two,  neither  of 
whom  had  reached  her  twenty-sixth  year.  She 
was  left  a  widow  in  her  nineteenth  year,  and  her 
only  child  was  accidentally  killed  a  few  weeks 
after  the  death  of  the  father.  The  hapless  girl- 
widow  and  childless  mother  was  so  stricken  to 
the  heart  that  never  again  did  she  breathe  the 
names  of  husband  or  child,  for  the  words  were 
written  in  such  woeful  letters  in  the  depths  of 
her  heart  that  the  sound  was  far  too  sacred  for 
casual  mention  in  ordinary  intercourse. 

Lady  Maxwell  was  a  friend  and  follower  of  John 
Wesley,  into  whose  hands  she  put  five  hundred 
pounds  for  his  schools,  and  on  hearing  later  that 
they  were  still  in  debt,  she  followed  by  another 
offering  of  three  hundred  pounds. 

Lady  Maxwell  was  clearly  a  woman  of  a  different 
nature  from  Lady  Glenorchy,  in  whose  letters  to  her 
friend  there  are  constant  reminders  of  the  extent 
of  her  own  confidences,  freely  imparted,  while  she 

184 


LADY   MAXWELL 

presses  for  the  return  of  the  confidences  which  the 
reserved,  self-sufficing  woman  never  seemed  able 
to  give.  Notwithstanding  this,  Lady  Glenorchy's 
faith  in  her  friend  remained  unshaken,  though  it 
was  not  without  its  tests.  As  a  mark  of  her 
implicit  trust  in  Lady  Maxwell,  when  Lady 
Glenorchy,  with  a  calm  consideration  of  her  general 
dehcacy  of  health  and  frequent  severe  illnesses, 
made  her  will,  while  not  yet  thirty  years  of  age, 
she  unhesitatingly  named  Lady  Maxwell  her 
executrix. 

It  is  plain  that  Lady  Glenorchy's  fortune 
remained  under  her  own  control,  and  that  while 
she  required  the  consent  of  the  two  gentlemen  of 
the  family  for  any  changes  in  the  household,  she 
was  able  to  spend  large  sums  of  her  own  money 
on  works  of  religion  and  charity. 

The  absence  of  family  worship  and  a  family 
chaplain  in  the  great  houses  in  which  she  dwelt 
was  a  grief  to  her.  She  did  indeed  make  painful 
attempts  to  address  and  to  pray  in  strict  privacy 
with  her  maid-servants,  but  she  was  too  conscious 
of  her  own  deficiencies,  which  she  looked  upon  not 
so  much  in  the  light  of  natural  disquahfication  as 
in  the  sense  of  a  sinful  lack  of  zeal  for  God's  glory 
and  of  concern  for  the  souls  of  her  fellow-creatures. 
She  clung  to  the  resource  of  a  chaplain  as  solving 
many  difficulties. 

185 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

Accordingly  it  was  with  corresponding  joy  that 
she  got  from  Lord  Glenorchy  permission  to  install 
a  chaplain,  with  the  proviso  that  he  was  only  to 
officiate  in  Lord  Breadalbane's  absence. 

A  chaplain  implied  a  chapel — not  a  simple 
oratory  from  which  he  might  instruct  the  family 
and  lead  their  prayers  and  praise — but  where  he 
might  preach  in  turn  along  with  other  ministers 
on  Sundays  and  other  days  for  the  benefit  of  the 
neighbourhood. 

Lady  Glenorchy  hired  St.  Mary's  Chapel  in 
Niddry  Wynd  for  her  purpose. 

The  old  building  had  been  originally  a  Roman 
Catholic  Chapel,  and  was,  at  the  time  Lady 
Glenorchy  took  it,  a  hall  of  some  of  the  City  guilds. 

Without  doubt,  Lady  Glenorchy  and  Lady 
Maxwell — her  principal  counsellor  in  the  matter — 
had  many  consultations  on  what  should  be  the 
organisation  of  the  chapel.  The  two  women  were 
amiable,  devout,  singularly  enlightened  and  liberal 
for  their  day,  since  the  conclusion  they  arrived  at 
was  that  the  chapel,  which  was  not  to  be  occupied 
in  canonical  hours  and  was  not  for  Lady  Glen- 
orchy's  chaplain  alone,  should  be  open  to  every 
parson  or  pastor  who  loved  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
in  sincerity,  whatever  his  denomination — Episco- 
palian, Presbyterian,  Wesleyan,  or  Methodist — 
only  he  must  be  Protestant. 

186 


"BLACK  PRELACY" 

The  result  proved  that,  with  all  the  two  ladies' 
shining  virtues,  they  were  acting  with  singular 
simplicity  and  with  a  lack  of  the  shrewdness  which 
would  have  taken  popular  prejudice  and  party 
rancour  into  consideration. 

Very  Ukely  in  Lady  Maxwell's  case  it  was  not 
so  much  want  of  worldly  perception  as  indignant 
defiance  of  such  obstacles. 

The  undenominational  project  met  with  general 
reprobation  in  the  rehgious  circles  of  the  capital. 
Lady  Glenorchy's  friend  and  minister,  Mr.  Walker, 
plainly  condemned  the  arrangement  and  declined 
to  preach  in  the  chapel  under  the  circumstances. 
Apparently  the  introduction  of  Wesleyan  and  of 
Methodist  preachers  to  the  pulpit  was  the  innova- 
tion most  objected  to.  Yet,  according  to  an 
authority  who  had  been  himself  an  English 
dissenter.  Nonconformists  from  the  sister  kingdom 
had  up  to  this  date  been  readily  admitted  to  the 
pulpits  of  the  Established  Church.  But  in  the 
present  instance,  where  Methodists  and  Wesleyans 
were  pitted  against  each  other,  it  was  said  that 
the  one  preacher  contradicted  the  other.  Neither 
were  they  the  only  outsiders  tabooed.  There 
were  objectors  who  refused  to  join  in  church 
services  with  Episcopalians.  The  old  hatred 
against  "Black  Prelacy"  stirred  again  in  the 
national  breast. 

187 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

The  single  clergyman  in  the  city  who  was 
favourable  to  the  flag  of  truce  which  the  two  ladies 
innocently  sought  to  unfurl  and  found  it  suddenly 
converted  into  a  battle  challenge,  was  Lady 
Maxwell's  minister,  Doctor  Webster,  of  the  Tol- 
booth,  an  accompHshed,  broad-minded  man — so 
much  so  that,  though  himself  a  declared  Calvinist, 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  accompanying  his  distin- 
guished parishioner,  who  inclined  strongly  to 
Wesleyanism,  on  Sunday  evenings  to  wait  on  the 
services  at  one  of  John  Wesley's  chapels  in 
Edinburgh. 

In  the  middle  of  the  contest  John  Wesley  himself 
visited  the  Scotch  capital,  where  he  never  made 
many  converts,  while  Whitefield  had  nearly  taken 
the  place  by  storm.  The  presence  of  the  leader 
caused  the  contention  to  wax  much  hotter.  Poor 
Lady  Glenorchy  !  for  any  deed  of  hers  to  prove  a 
bombshell  was  hard  lines  to  a  meek  spirit.  But 
she  did  not  relinquish  her  design  without  granting 
a  fair  hearing  to  both  parties. 

She  was  introduced  to  John  Wesley,  though  she 
had  some  time  before  declined  to  join  his  Wesleyan 
Society.  She  was  even  present  at  a  conference 
held  at  her  request  between  Wesley  and  Webster. 

The  scene  presented  is  striking  and  significant — 
the  two  middle-aged  men  in  the  seats  of  the 
mighty  where  theology  was  concerned — the  great 

188 


SEPARATION    FROM   WESLEYANISM 

Wesleyan  divine,  as  Romney  painted  him,  in 
his  wig,  ruffled  shirt,  and  black  coat,  and  his  not 
unworthy  antagonist,  the  popular  doctor,  in 
equally  imposing  costume,  gravely  discussing  high 
questions  of  God  and  His  decrees,  the  slender,  fair, 
entranced  woman,  whose  delicate  feet  were  already 
treading  heaven's  threshold,  hanging  on  their 
words  as  falling  from  the  lips  of  oracles. 

The  worst  bit  of  earth  and  earthliness  comes  in 
after  the  disputants  have  parted  and  have  begun 
to  suspect  and  accuse  each  other  of  deterioration 
into  Arminianism  or  Antinomianism,  or  any  other 
theological  "  ism  "  which  came  handy  to  their 
memories  and  their  lips.  Even  Lady  Glenorchy, 
the  most  modest  of  women,  who,  if  any  sermon  in 
the  multitude  of  sermons  to  which  she  listened 
failed  to  lay  hold  of  her,  never  dreamt  of  blaming 
the  preacher,  simply  bewailed  the  hardness  of  her 
own  heart,  was  so  far  left  to  herself  under  the 
influence  of  the  opposing  arguer  as  to  hope  that 
Mr.  Wesley,  in  the  midst  of  his  dangerous  errors, 
still  held  the  essentials  of  Christianity  ! 

Lady  Glenorchy  proceeded  soon  afterwards  to 
separate  herself  and  her  chapel  from  Wesleyan 
preachers — a  step  which  no  more  led  to  peace  than 
the  rash  proposal  which  had  raised  the  fray. 
"  Lady  Maxwell  was  very  angry,"  the  most 
placable    of    the    belligerents    notes    sorrowfully, 

189 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

though  to  the  credit  of  both  women  the  temporary 
altercation  did  nothing  to  break  off  their  cordial 
and  lasting  friendship. 

Lady  Maxwell's  good  opinion  was  not  the  only 
one  risked  in  the  struggle,  as  Lady  Glenorchy, 
pulled  different  ways,  harassed  and  worried  in  a 
manner  peculiarly  trying  to  her,  found  later  in 
the  controversy.  To  separate  herself  from  the 
Methodists  generally,  and  to  abide  solely,  as  it 
sounded,  by  the  Church  of  Scotland,  offended 
Lady  Huntingdon  also,  and  a  passing  coolness 
arose  in  that  quarter  likewise. 

However,  it  did  not  prevent  Lady  Glenorchy 
from  forwarding  large  sums  of  money  given 
and  collected  by  her  to  be  expended  on  Lady 
Huntingdon's  schemes. 

It  was  a  relief  to  turn  from  wrangling  jars — were 
it  but  to  these  every-day  incidents,  for  which  as 
a  rule  the  mistress  of  Taymouth  had  neither  eyes 
nor  ears.  One  of  these  incidents  was  that  Lord 
Glenorchy  had  disposed  of  the  estate  of  Sugnall, 
so  that  intercourse  with  Hawkestone  was  rendered 
more  uncertain. 

But,  as  if  in  realization  of  how  little  effect 
compulsion  produced  in  that  quarter,  more  indul- 
gence began  to  be  shown  to  her  ladyship's  opinions 
and  predilections.  Miss  Hill  was  suffered  to  pay 
a  visit  of  several  months'  duration  to  Taymouth, 

190 


BARNTON 

nay,  when  the  visit  came  to  an  end,  my  Lord 
vouchsafed  his  consent  to  his  Lady's  accompanying 
her  friend  as  far  as  Edinburgh.  And  when  Lady 
Glenorchy  was  in  England  it  seemed  an  understood 
thing  that  part  of  her  time  of  absence  should  be 
spent  at  Hawkestone. 

There  was  further  compensation  for  the  loss  of 
the  Staffordshire  seat.  Lady  Glenorchy  was 
anxious  to  substitute  a  country-house  near  Edin- 
burgh where  there  would  be  quiet  without  the 
remoteness  of  the  Highlands,  and  where,  with  much 
less  state,  there  would  not  be  the  same  influx  of 
guests. 

The  husband,  whose  ways  were  so  unlike  her 
ways,  was  disposed  to  grant  her  wish.  This  fresh 
complacency  supports  the  supposition,  eventually 
fulfilled,  that,  let  him  be  as  unlike  her  as  he  was, 
let  him  contradict  and  tease  her,  even  affront  and 
disgrace  her  at  times,  she  was  possibly  the  thing  he 
valued  most  of  all  the  great  inheritance  which  was 
in  store  for  him. 

He  bought  the  country-house  of  Barnton,  four 
miles  from  Edinburgh,  and  the  additions  and 
improvements  which  were  at  once  made  to  it 
included  a  chapel  to  which  not  only  the  family, 
but  the  neighbours  all  around  might  resort  for 
spiritual  teaching.  Neither  were  the  workmen  en- 
gaged in  the  work  forgotten.     Lady  Glenorchy 

191 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

would  have  them  assembled  at  intervals  in  the 
hall  and  addressed  by  the  ministers  whom  she 
brought  with  her  to  deliver  their  message.  Lord 
Glenorchy  certainly  permitted,  if  he  did  not 
personally  countenance,  these  addresses — in  ac- 
cordance with  the  solitary  announcement  in  her 
diary  that  his  lordship  had  accompanied  her  on 
a  particular  evening  to  her  Niddry  Wynd  chapel. 

A  similar  instance  of  her  having  won  respect  for 
herself  and  her  views  was  shown  later  by  Lord 
Breadalbane  when  he  acquiesced  in  her  rendering 
help  to  the  Reverend  James  Stewart,  Gaelic 
minister  of  Killin,  in  the  district  of  Strathfillan 
and  Glenfalloch  with  their  inhabitants  as  far  as 
twelve  miles  distant  from  any  place  of  Christian 
worship.  Lady  Glenorchy,  at  her  own  expense, 
either  built  or  repaired  the  chapel  at  Stathfillan, 
and  endowed  it,  taking  care  by  the  experience  she 
had  learnt  to  put  it  under  the  Society  for  Propa- 
gating Christian  Knowledge.  She  also  engaged 
two  missionaries  of  the  Church  of  Scotland  to  act 
under  the  Society,  and  preach  through  the  High- 
lands and  Islands  while  she  defrayed  their 
expenses. 

The  first  chaplain  elected  for  the  Niddry  Wynd 
chapel  was  a  young  English  clergyman  named 
Middleton,  who  had  been  officiating  in  an  Episcopal 
chapel  at  Dalkeith.     He  had  been  one  of  the  six 

192 


MR.   DE   COURCY 

Oxford  students  who  were  expelled  from  the 
University  for  attending  religious  meetings  in 
private  houses. 

He  was  a  man  of  good  breeding  and  some 
private  means.  But  neither  his  having  suffered 
for  conscience  sake  nor  his  suitability  in  other 
respects  could  atone  for  his  Church  of  England 
ordination  and  procHvities  in  the  eyes  of  Scotch 
hearers.  And  nothing  would  have  induced  Lady 
Glenorchy  to  force  an  unacceptable  minister 
on  a  congregation.  So  he  withdrew  from  the 
candidature. 

By  an  arrangement  which  we  do  not  quite  under- 
stand, unless  because  the  new  man  was  recom- 
mended by  Miss  Hill,  another  Episcopal  clergyman 
was  chosen  to  fill  Middleton's  place,  act  as  Lady 
Glenorchy's  chaplain,  and  preach  in  St.  Mary's. 
He  was  a  young  Irishman  named  De  Courcy,  and 
belonged  to  a  branch  of  the  noble  house  of  Kingsale. 
He  was  not  only  of  an  old  family,  of  gentle  nurture, 
and  of  very  prepossessing  address — his  preaching 
had  already  attracted  so  much  attention  and 
produced  such  results  that  imploring  letters  were 
sent  after  him  begging  that  his  Scotch  appointment 
might  be  cancelled,  and  that  he  might  be  permitted 
to  return  to  England  and  work  for  his  Master  there. 

An  attempt  was  made  to  prejudice  Lord  Glen- 
orchy against  him,  which  was  at  first  so  successful 

193 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

that  within  two  days  of  De  Courcy's  expected 
arrival  in  Edinburgh  his  lordship  told  his  wife  the 
stranger  should  not  be  permitted  to  enter  his 
house. 

In  her  trouble  she  retired  to  her  room,  and  cried 
for  help  where  she  was  used  to  seek  it,  and  never 
sought  it  in  vain. 

"  Before  I  got  from  my  knees,"  she  wrote  in  her 
diary  of  the  second  incident  of  which  she  has  given 
the  details,  "  Lord  Glenorchy  came  to  my  door 
and  asked  admittance.  With  fear  and  trembUng 
I  opened  it.  He  came  in  and  threw  a  letter  on  the 
table  and  bade  me  read  it. 

"  It  was  an  anonymous  letter  informing  him  of 
some  circumstances  relating  to  Mr.  De  Courcy 
which  tended  to  exasperate  him  more  and  seemed 
written  with  a  view  to  make  dispeace  in  the  family. 

"  My  heart  sank  within  me  when  I  read  it.  I 
stood  in  silent  suspense  expecting  the  storm  to 
burst  with  redoubled  violence,  when  to  my 
unspeakable  surprise  he  said  :  *  I  now  see  that  I 
have  been  the  tool  of  Satan  when  I  opposed  the 
coming  of  Mr.  De  Courcy — this  letter  shows  it  to 
me — here  the  cloven  foot  appears,  but  the  writer 
of  it  shall  be  disappointed.  I  shall  not  only 
receive  him  into  my  house,  but  do  everything  in 
my  power  to  encourage  him  in  his  work,  and  will 
countenance  him  myself.' " 

194 


WESLEY  ON   DE  COURCY 

The  malicious  meddler  in  the  affair  had  over- 
shot the  mark,  and  driven  the  unstable  nobleman 
to  the  reverse  of  his  previous  conduct.  Take  note 
of  the  unconscious  arrogance  of  Lord  Glenorchy's 
last  words,  "  Will  countenance  him  myself." 

But  not  all  Mr.  De  Courcy's  gifts,  even  patron- 
ised by  Lord  Glenorchy,  sufficed  to  give  him  more 
than  a  temporary  success  in  Edinburgh,  when  even 
John  Wesley  showed  himself  human,  smarting 
under  Lady  Glenorchy's  finally  declining  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  his  preachers.  In  writing  to 
Lady  Maxwell,  he  sums  up  Mr.  De  Courcy's  advan- 
tages and  comments  ironically  on  the  exclamations 
they  would  call  forth :  "  Surely  such  a  preacher  as 
this  never  was  in  Edinburgh  before.  Mr.  White- 
field  himself  was  not  to  be  compared  to  him.  What 
an  angel  of  a  man  !  "  But  John  Wesley  was 
mistaken,  except  in  the  very  beginning.  Mr.  De 
Courcy  did  not,  any  more  than  his  predecessors, 
find  favour  in  Edinburgh. 


19.5 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Advice  to  Lady  Glenorchy  as  to  an  Anonymous  Lady — Pearls  not 
to  be  cast  before  Swine — A  Time  to  be  Silent  and  a  Time  to  Speak — 
Further  Fatherly  Counsel  from  her  own  Minister,  Mr.  Walker — 
The  Mistake  of  Thinking  the  First  Twenty  Years  of  her  Life  Wasted 
— Lady  Glenorchy  leaving  Taymouth  for  Barnton  in  the  Autumn 
of  1771  on  account  of  Lord  Glenorchy 's  Health,  while  no  Serious 
Danger  was  Anticipated  and  she  was  unusually  Light-hearted — 
Alarming  Symptoms — Quitting  Edinburgh  on  the  Morning  of  the 
Sacrament  Sunday — The  Ministers  she  Summoned  to  her  Aid — 
Continual  Intercession  for  the  Sick  Man — His  Desire  to  Listen  and 
Believe — His  Death  12th  November,  1771 — The  Divine  Support 
given  to  her — Lord  Glenorchy's  Generous  Will,  with  Lord 
Breadalbane's  Concurrence. 

Lady  Glenorchy's  zeal  in  seeking  by  a  great 
effort  to  speak  on  the  subject  which  was  not  only 
near  her  heart,  but  of  which  that  heart  was  full, 
and  her  determination  to  withdraw  from  the 
world  and  its  practices,  were  viewed  with  larger, 
other  eyes  by  her  worthy  ministers  than  by  the 
women  friends,  such  as  Miss  Hill,  who  were  apt,  as 
women  in  all  generations  are  apt,  to  go  to  extremes, 
who  had  certainly  at  first  inculcated  upon  her  the 
course  which  older  and  wiser  Christians  were 
deprecating.  One  letter  written  by  a  well-known 
Mr.  Gillespie  had  evidently  been  solicited  from 
him  on  Lady  Glenorchy's  behalf,  by  someone  who 
honoured  her  and  wished  her  well,  but  who  feared 
for  her  well-founded  charges  of  extravagance  and 
eccentricity.  The  letter  is  rather  directed  at  her, 
than  addressed  to  her.  It  was  in  fact  dehcately 
written  to  an  anonymous  lady. 

196 


AN  ANONYMOUS   LETTER 

A  copy  of  this  letter  in  Lady  Glenorchy's  hand- 
writing was  found  among  her  papers.  The  gist 
of  it  was  an  earnest  recommendation  to  care  and 
circumspection  in  approaching  others  for  their 
good.  "  Christ  appointed  that  pearls  be  not  laid 
before  swine.  The  pearls  of  the  things  of  God  are 
not  to  be  laid  before  persons  in  conversation  who 
are  known  to  have  the  spirit  of  scorners  of  these 
great  and  glorious  things,  and  to  be  disposed  to 
make  a  bad  use  of  what  was  ever  so  well  intended, 
however  it  may  be  expressed." 

"  The  pearls  of  reproof  and  rebuke  are  not  to  be 
cast  before  swine — those  who  are  daring  in  sin 
and  obstinate  in  evil  ways — lest  they  trample  them 
under  foot,  condemn  them,  turn  against  and  rend 
the  reprovers,  and  hurt  them  in  character,  or  at 
least  wound  their  spirits  in  place  of  profiting  by 
the   reproof." 

The  writer  goes  on  to  state  that,  though  persons 
in  public  offices  must  speak,  private  believers  who 
are  prudent — that  exercise  spiritual  prudence — 
ought  to  keep  silence,  because  it  is  an  evil  time, 
and  persons  are  become  incorrigible.  He  quotes 
Amos  :  "  Therefore  the  prudent  shall  keep  silence 
in  that  time,  for  it  is  an  evil  time,"  and  dwells  on 
the  virtue  and  efficacy  of  "holy  silence"  on  many 
occasions. 

He  further  reminds  his  reader  that  "  there  is  a 

197 

14— (3»» 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

time  to  be  silent  and  a  time  to  speak/'  that  "  a 
foolish  voice  is  known  by  the  multitude  of  words," 
that  Christ  kept  silence  when  falsely  accused,  so 
that  His  unjust  judge  marvelled  :  "  Hearest  Thou 
how  many  things  they  witness  against  Thee,  and 
Thou  answerest  them  never  a  word  ?  " 

Another  letter  written  to  her  by  name  was  from 
the  Rev.  Robert  Walker.  It  was  full  of  fatherly 
kindness  and  consideration,  it  dealt  tenderly  with 
the  wounds  she  had  received  in  the  house  of  her 
friends,  when  those  who  acknowledged  the  same 
Lord  and  were  engaged  in  the  same  cause,  instead 
of  approving  of  her  intentions  and  schemes,  which 
appeared  to  him  of  the  purest,  with  the  most 
generous  and  disinterested  projects  of  usefulness, 
misjudged  and  opposed  them. 

When  he  first  knew  her,  he  wrote  that  he  beheld 
what  he  had  long  wished  to  see,  "  One  who  might 
have  been  seated  as  queen  in  Vanity  Fair,  and  even 
courted  to  ascend  the  throne,  nobly  preferring 
the  pilgrim's  staff  to  the  sceptre,  and  resolutely 
setting  out  on  the  wilderness  road  to  the  celestial 
city." 

But  he  feared  that  over-anxiety  to  shun  the 
dangerous  pits  on  the  left  hand  of  the  narrow  way, 
had  rendered  her  less  attentive  than  was  necessary 
to  some  openings  on  the  right  hand  which  ought 
likewise   to   have   been   avoided.     He   impressed 

198 


A   FATHERLY    EPISTLE 

upon  her  very  plainly  and  candidly  to  keep  to  her 
own  sphere  of  hfe. 

He  seemed  to  think  many  of  her  endowments 
wasted  in  her  dealings  with  the  lower  ranks  by 
whom  she  was  not  understood.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  weapons  in  her  possession,  her  bloom  of 
youth,  and  her  other  graces,  if  properly  appHed, 
would  do  more  execution  in  a  very  short  time 
among  persons  of  rank  and  education  than  all  the 
ponderous  artillery  of  title  and  opulence  would 
be  able  to  perform  for  many  long  years  among 
those  inferior  classes  to  whom  her  attention  was 
then  almost  wholly  confined. 

He  combated  with  much  tact  and  ability  what 
she  was  apt  to  deplore  and  refer  to  frequently  as 
the  first  twenty  misspent  years  of  her  life.  Dealing 
with  the  acquirements  she  had  then  gained,  and 
was  subsequently  incUned  to  disdain,  he  hkened 
them  to  jewels  not  one  of  which  she  could  spare, 
and  not  one  of  which  would  be  lost. 

"  No,  madam,"  he  had  written,  "  give  me  leave 
to  tell  you  they  are  lawful  spoil.  You  are  become 
the  rightful  possessor  of  them,  and  the  great 
Proprietor  who  hath  put  them  into  your  hands, 
expects  and  requires  that  they  should  be 
consecrated  to  His  service." 

He  recalled  the  history  of  Moses  with  the  record 
that  he  was  "  exceeding  fair,"  that  he  was  learned 

199 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

in  all  the  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians,  and  mighty 
in  word  and  deed.  He  proceeded  to  ask  her  if 
she  really  supposed  that  all  these  natural  and 
acquired  advantages — his  form,  his  literature, 
his  devotion,  his  magnanimity  and  prowess — were 
mere  superfluous  embelhshments  which  contri- 
buted nothing  to  quaUfy  him  for  the  high  ofhce  he 
afterwards  bore  in  the  church  of  God? 

He  concluded  his  simile  and  his  application  by 
declaring  that  upon  this  supposition  she  must  be 
sensible  that  the  marvellous  train  of  providences 
which  introduced  him  into  the  Court  of  Pharaoh 
would  have  neither  voice  nor  meaning.  Moses 
would  have  been  as  safe,  or  rather  more  safe, 
because  less  formidable,  under  the  homely  appear- 
ance of  a  clumsy,  awkward,  common  Jew,  than 
with  the  figure  and  splendour  of  an  accomplished 
prince. 

This  letter  was  highly  prized  by  Lady  Glenorchy. 
She  often  spoke  of  it,  and  it  was  carefully  preserved 
among  her  papers. 

In  the  autumn  of  1771  Lady  Glenorchy  left 
Taymouth  in  September,  earlier  than  usual,  with 
Lord  Glenorchy,  who  was  suffering  from  indis- 
position, and  it  was  thought  change  of  air  would 
benefit  him.  It  was  their  first  occupation  of 
Barnton  after  the  alterations  of  it  were  completed, 
and  she  was  happy  and  thankful  with  an  unusual 

200 


DOMESTIC   TROUBLES 

return  of  the  gaiety  which  had  been  conspicuous 
in  her  in  her  early  days. 

For  the  first  fortnight  all  went  well,  and  to  her 
satisfaction  on  the  two  Sundays  there  were 
prayers  and  sermons  to  a  company  in  the  hall. 

But  on  the  third  Sunday  the  whole  situation 
was  changed  by  Lord  Glenorchy's  having  been 
suddenly  seized  with  a  fit.  She  was  quite  stupid 
with  fear,  she  wrote  in  her  diary,  "  and  could 
not  pray."  But  when  he  speedily  rallied  she  was 
able  to  write  that  the  Lord  had  in  mercy  spared 
him,  and  to  trust  that  the  warning  might  be 
sanctified. 

During  the  following  week  the  illness  seemed  to 
be  passing  off,  and  she  was  sufficiently  disengaged 
to  have  one  of  her  compelling  impulses  on  account 
of  the  absence  of  the  chaplain  to  call  the  maid- 
servants together  and  pray  with  them.  She  felt 
unwilhng  and  unfit  and  the  exercise  went  so  much 
against  her  inclinations  that  she  struggled  for  an 
hour  before  she  could  bring  herself  to  undertake  it. 
"  She  was  very  heavy  "  at  the  thought  of  meeting 
the  servants  in  the  evening,  when,  as  she  could 
write,  the  Lord  graciously  relieved  her  by  sending 
a  minister  in  the  way,  who  took  the  office  which 
was  so  hard  for  her. 

A  month  later,  the  7th  of  November,  was  the 
fast    day    before    the    dispensing   of   the    winter 

201 


THE   COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

Sacrament  in  Edinburgh,  and  she  was  able  to 
drive  to  town  and  be  at  her  church,  while  grieved 
to  quit  Lord  Glenorchy,  who  she  feared  was  less 
well. 

On  Saturday,  the  9th  of  November,  he  was 
worse,  and  she  went  to  Edinburgh  to  get  a  nurse 
and  to  ask  the  prayers  of  the  church  for  him, 
leaving  him  under  the  care  of  a  medical  man.  She 
meant  to  stay  for  the  Sacrament  Sunday  and  to 
return  to  Barnton  immediately  afterwards,  but 
learning  on  the  Sunday  morning  that  he  was  still 
worse,  she  went  home  immediately  without  waiting 
to  attend  the  ordinance.  Finding  him  as  she 
feared,  very  ill,  she  sent  for  more  medical  aid. 

On  Monday  he  was  clearly  in  great  danger,  and 
with  pathetic  faith  in  her  ministers  and  in  the 
power  of  their  intercession,  she  summoned  three, 
her  special  friend  and  pastor,  Mr.  Walker,  Mr. 
Plenderleith,  of  the  Tolbooth,  and  Mr.  Gibson,  of 
St.  Cuthbert's,  to  join  with  Mr.  De  Courcy  in 
praying  with  and  for  him. 

All  that  sorrowful  Monday  and  Tuesday,  in 
company  and  separately,  the  ministers  assembled 
and  interceded  for  Lord  Glenorchy's  recovery, 
and  for  mercy  on  his  soul. 

He  was  aware  of  his  situation  and  frequently 
expressed  a  sense  of  the  evil  of  sin.  He  spoke  of 
his  inability  to  believe  on  Jesus,  while  he  said  he 

202 


LORD  GLENORCHY'S   DEATH 

had  no  hope  save  in  the  merits  of  Christ.  He 
wished  to  believe  and  attempted  to  pray — seemed 
pleased  with  the  prayers  of  others,  desired  them 
to  be  continued.  But  to  her  great  distress,  as 
evening  drew  on,  he  grew  delirious,  for  she  had 
always  entertained  a  hope  that  her  prayers  for 
him  would  be  heard,  and  that  he  would  have  made 
"  a  good  confession  "  at  the  last. 

Not  but  that  what  he  had  said  would  be  a  great 
consolation  in  the  reverent  mercifulness  and 
charity  with  which  the  mass  of  those  Christians 
of  a  century-and-a-half  ago,  who  were  so  severe  on 
themselves,  accepted,  nay,  caught  eagerly  at  every 
sign  of  repentance  on  dying  Ups.  It  paraphrased 
what  the  poet  Cowper — the  most  despairing  of  all 
Christians  for  himself — could  yet  hope  might  be 
true  for  the  reckless  rider  thrown  from  his  horse, 
and  killed  in  the  middle  of  his  wild  career  : — 

"  Between  the  saddle  and  the  ground 
He  mercy  sought  and  mercy  found." 

At  eight  o'clock  on  Tuesday  evening,  the  12th 
of  November,  1771,  while  Mr.  De  Courcy  was 
ending  an  importunate  prayer  for  the  unconscious 
man,  he  died,  and  his  stricken  wife,  who  was  in 
the  room,  fell  motionless  on  the  floor. 

She  has  described  her  sensations  :  "  My  heart 
rebelled  against  God.  I  inwardly  said, '  It  is  hard.* 
At  that  instant  the  Lord  said  to  my  soul,  '  Be  still 

203 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

and  know  that  I  am  God.'  These  words  were 
accompanied  with  such  power  that  from  that 
moment  an  unspeakable  calm  took  place  in  my 
mind.  Every  murmuring  thought  subsided.  I 
laid  my  hand  on  my  mouth  and  held  my  peace. 

"  Upon  leaving  the  room  these  words  were 
impressed  upon  my  heart :  '  Thy  Maker  is  thy 
Husband  ;  the  Lord  of  Hosts  is  His  Name.*  Thus 
did  the  Lord  comfort,  support  and  refresh  my  soul 
during  the  first  days  of  my  widowhood." 

But  her  biographer  was  right  in  summing  up  the 
melancholy  occasion  as  a  great  and  affecting 
bereavement  which,  when  the  reaction  came,  she 
felt  deeply. 

Both  husband  and  wife  were  in  the  prime  of  life 
and  in  the  noonday  of  prosperity.  He  was  no 
more  than  thirty-three,  she  was  thirty  years. 

With  all  his  failings,  he  was  in  the  near  relation 
of  husband,  and  had  been  her  constant  companion 
for  the  last  ten  years.  Without  question  he  was 
attached  to  her,  though  he  might  show  his  attach- 
ment in  an  undesirable  fashion.  The  last  con- 
sideration of  all  to  a  woman  who  had  already  felt 
and  owned  that  her  wealth,  rank  and  influence 
constituted  her  greatest  burden,  was  the  considera- 
tion that  with  the  life  of  her  husband  was  bound 
up  the  continuance  and  increase  of  her  worldly 
honours. 

204 


REPUTED    LIKENESS    OF    LADY    GLENORCHY 

By  permission  oj  the  Governors  of  Chcshiint  Co/h\^e,  Ctiiii/jritfge 


LORD  GLENORCHY'S   WILL 

Far  more  overwhelming  to  a  nature  such  as  hers 
was  the  forgiving  tenderness  which  forgot  and 
blotted  out,  with  a  freeness  and  fulness  akin  to 
the  love  of  God  all  the  errors  and  shortcomings 
of  the  dead,  and  remembered  only  with  piteous, 
affectionate  regard  his  acts  of  kindness. 

All  that  was  mortal  of  Lord  Glenorchy  was 
taken  north  to  the  family  burying-place  at  Finlarig 
on  Loch  Tay,  and  Lady  Glenorchy  withdrew  with 
Lord  Breadalbane  to  Holyrood.  She  had  not 
ceased  to  be  the  sorrowing  father's  cherished 
daughter  because  the  son  who  had  been  the  Hnk 
between  them  was  gone. 

Lady  Glenorchy  of  course  knew  that  her  jointure 
was  a  thousand  pounds  a  year,  but  she  had  not 
been  aware,  till  Lord  Glenorchy's  repositories  were 
examined,  that  six  months  before  his  death  the 
young  man,  with  something  like  an  intimation  of 
his  approaching  end,  had  signed  two  deeds.  By 
them  he  left  to  his  widow  his  whole  real  and  landed 
estate  of  the  baronies  of  Barnton  and  King's 
Crammond  and  other  lands,  with  the  patronage 
of  the  parish  of  Crammond  and  all  things  belonging 
to  him  in  full  right,  to  her  and  to  her  heirs  for  ever. 

He  further  assigned  to  her,  in  legad  phrase,  "  for 
the  favour  and  affection  he  bore  to  her,"  all  his 
plate,  furniture,  linen,  pictures,  prints,  books, 
everything  of  which  he  had   a  disposing  power, 

205 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

making  her  his  sole  executrix  and  legatee  of  al! 
which  belonged  to  him  in  each  of  the  houses  of 
Tay mouth,  Barnton  and  Holyrood. 
[  What  was  more — what  must  have  touched  her 
extremely — he  gave  her  full  power  to  convert  the 
estate  and  effects  into  money,  and  to  employ  it  on 
such  work  as  she  should  see  cause  for — encouraging 
the  preaching  of  the  Gospel  and  promoting  the 
knowledge  of  the  Protestant  religion,  erecting 
schools  and  civilising  the  inhabitants  in  Breadal- 
bane,  Glenorchy,  Nether  Lorn  and  other  parts  of 
the  Highlands  of  Scotland — in  such  a  way  and 
manner  as  she  should  judge  proper  and  expedient. 

Still  more  :  in  case  of  her  death  before  the 
whole  funds  to  be  destined  by  her  should  be  em- 
ployed in  pious  purposes,  trustees — Charles  Earl  of 
Elgin  and  David  Earl  of  Leven — were  appointed 
to  carry  out  the  original  intentions  of  Lady 
Glenorchy. 

Nothing  in  the  world  could  have  gone  to  her 
heart  like  the  extraordinary  liberty  given  her,  with 
its  proof  not  only  of  his  profound  esteem  for  her 
and  faith  in  her,  but  of  his  respect  for  the  objects 
to  which  she  had  dedicated  her  life. 

Whether  or  not  Lord  Breadalbane  had  been 
privy  to  his  son's  will,  he  was  not  to  be  outdone 
by  him  in  generosity.  The  whole  price  of  Barnton, 
which  had  now  passed  to  his  daughter-in-law,  had 

206 


LORD  BREADALBANE'S  GENEROSITY 

not  been  paid,  but,  instead  of  suffering  Lady 
Glenorchy  to  supply  the  remainder  of  the  sum 
out  of  her  funds,  he  furnished  what  was  wanted  as 
his  gift  to  his  son's  widow. 

{  When  the  melancholy  business  consequent  on 
Lord  Glenorchy' s  death  was  over.  Lady  Glenorchy 
was  prostrated  by  one  of  the  worst  attacks  of 
the  fever  from  which  she  so  often  suffered. 


207 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Lady  Glenorchy's  Income — Mr.  Walker's  Wise  Advice  as  to  its  Disposal 
— Lady  Henrietta  Hope — The  Hopetonn  Family — Lady  Glenorchy's 
Edinburgh  Church — The  Quaint  Laying  of  the  Foundation  Stone — 
Accident  during  the  Building — The  Countenance  of  the  Edinburgh 
Presbytery  requested  for  the  Church — The  Opening  of  the  Church 
in  1774 — Lady  G  enorchy's  Visit  to  England — Her  Appearance  at 
Pinner's  Hall — Her  Intention  to  Nominate  her  Chaplain,  Mr.  Grove, 
to  be  Minister  of  her  Church — Her  Vexation  at  the  Reply  of  the 
Presbytery  when  she  applied  to  them  to  Confirm  her  Nomination — 
The  Scandal  and  Disturbance  produced  by  their  Answer — Lady 
Glenorchy  so  Hurt  and  Mortified  that  she  would  have  quitted 
Scotland  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  Remonstrances  of  Lady  Henrietta 
Hope — Mr.  Grove's  Withdrawal  from  the  Controversy. 

Lady  Glenorchy's  income  was  reckoned  a  large 
one  in  those  days.  It  now  amounted  to  three 
thousand  pounds  a  year.  She  kept  her  affairs  in 
her  own  hands  and  showed  herself  quite  competent 
to  manage  them,  though  her  faithful  friend,  the 
Rev.  Robert  Walker,  had  his  fears  that  here  again 
her  zeal  would  outrun  her  discretion. 

He  wrote  to  her  before  long,  one  of  his  wise, 
considerate  letters,  warning  her  how  much  better 
it  would  be  for  her  to  keep  her  worldly  estate  intact 
while  distributing  freely  from  her  abundance, 
instead  of  being  tempted  to  such  rash  prodigality 
of  charity  as  would  impoverish  her  betimes  and 
actually  leave  her  without  the  means  of  relieving 
the  needy  and  benefiting  all  religious  and  philan- 
thropic enterprises  such  as  it  had  been  her 
privilege  and  delight  to  do. 

208 


LADY   HENRIETTA   HOPE 

Lady  Glenorchy's  great  project,  probably  in- 
spired by  the  example  of  Lady  Huntingdon,  was 
that  a  church  should  be  built  by  her  where  there 
was  room  for  one  in  Edinburgh.  She  had  already 
opened  flourishing  schools  at  Barnton.  About  this 
time  she  made  the  acquaintance  of  Lady  Henrietta 
Hope,  eldest  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Hopetoun, 
who  was  destined  to  become  the  dearest  of  all 
Lady  Glenorchy's  women  friends. 

It  is  recorded  of  Lady  Henrietta  that  it  was 
when  crossing  the  English  Channel  in  one  of  the 
passenger  boats  of  the  period,  and  a  great  storm 
arose  so  that  the  passengers  and  crew  were  in 
prolonged  danger,  that  she  was  led  to  think 
seriously  and  to  resolve  by  grace  to  turn  to  her 
God  and  thenceforth  to  strive  to  serve  Him  and 
to  renounce  what  she  saw  to  be  sinful  in  the  Ufe 
around  her.  She  is  said  to  have  been,  in  addition 
to  her  godliness,  a  woman  of  natural  ability 
and  capacity,  a  cheerful  companion  and  a  wise 
counsellor. 

The  family  of  the  Hopes  of  Hopetoun,  like  that 
of  the  Hills  of  Hawkestone,  included  various 
members  who  were  early  disposed  to  choose  the 
better  part  in  hfe.  Lady  Sophia  Hope  held  her 
elder  sister's  opinions,  and  a  still  younger  sister. 
Lady  Mary  (who  became  afterwards  Countess  of 
Haddington)  when  only  a  girl  of  fourteen  received 

209 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

a  lasting  impression  from  coming  in  contact  with 
her  sister's  friend,  Lady  Glenorchy. 

The  site  of  Lady  Glenorchy' s  church  was  what 
was  then  called  Orphan  Park,  from  the  near  neigh- 
bourhood of  two  orphanages.  It  was  at  the  east 
end  of  the  hollow  between  the  old  and  the  new 
town.  .    ■ 

Lady  Glenorchy  was  at  Taymouth  when  the 
foundation-stone  was  laid,  but  she  heard  with 
gladness  a  fuU  account  of  the  very  simple  ceremony 
from  her  friend  Mrs.  Bailie  Walker — how  Bailie 
Walker  and  Scott  Moncrieff  of  New  Hall  ran  with 
eagerness  to  give  their  strength  to  help  to  put  the 
corner-stone  in  its  place — how  honest  "  Deacon 
Dickson,"  a  man  much  respected  for  his  goodness, 
stood  by.  When  the  stone  was  laid,  the  little 
party  repaired  to  one  of  the  orphanages  and  sang 
part  of  the  Hundred- and- eighteenth  Psalm  : — 

That  stone  is  made  head-corner  stone 

Which  builders  did  despise  ; 
This  is  the  doing  of  the  Lord, 

And  wondrous  in  our  eyes, 

read  the  second  chapter  of  Nehemiah,  and  finally 
the  Deacon  "  prayed  warmly  and  with  much 
enlargement." 

The  happiness  of  the  founder  of  the  church  was 
sadly  marred  by  an  unfortunate  accident  which 
happened  as  the  building  proceeded  in  1773.  From 

210 


CONFORMITY  TO   THE   WORLD 

the  fall  of  a  scaffold,  the  architect  and  his  foreman 
were  thrown  from  the  roof  to  the  floor,  and  killed 
on  the  spot. 

To  a  mystical  nature,  apt  to  dwell  on  portents 
and  omens,  this  was  a  great  blow  and  held  the 
danger  of  signifying  the  Lord's  displeasure  and  his 
rejection  of  her  offering.  All  her  minister — Mr. 
Walker's  moderation  and  tact  were  wanted,  to 
convince  her  that  the  accident,  due  to  the  careless- 
ness and  indifference  of  some  of  the  workmen,  did 
not  bear  such  a  message  to  her. 

It  seemed,  however,  to  arouse  in  her  the  dis- 
position to  austerity  to  which  she  was  prone,  for 
she  wrote  more  than  one  letter  to  her  spiritual 
adviser  pressing  him  to  communicate  to  her  what 
he  thought  on  the  question  of  conformity  to  the 
world  as  shown  by  professing  Christians. 

The  reverend  Robert  did  not  fail  her.  He 
was  equal  to  the  occasion,  though  he  decUned  at 
first  to  lay  down  laws  on  a  matter  where  each 
individual  Christian  enjoying  freedom  of  conscience 
ought  to  be  a  law  unto  himself  or  herself.  At  last 
he  complied  with  her  request  in  two  temperate, 
judicious  letters,  in  which  he  made  use  of  a 
humorous  allegory  to  illustrate  his  meaning. 

He  brought  forward  an  imaginary  lady  at  three 
stages  of  her  history.  At  the  first  stage  she  was 
surrounded  with  all  the  advantages  of  wealth  and 

211 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

rank  to  which  she  was  entitled,  which  she  was 
using  to  God's  glory  and  to  the  widespread  benefit 
of  those  around  her. 

At  the  second  stage,  impelled  by  morbid  and  false 
humihty  in  the  guise  of  asceticism,  she  had  par- 
tially stripped  herself,  and  her  influence  for  good 
had  lessened  in  proportion. 

At  the  third  stage  she  had  seen  her  error,  re- 
sumed her  rights  with  their  dignity  and  grace,  and 
was  again  prospering  in  the  cause  of  religion  and 
virtue. 

More  than  that,  he  told  her  plainly  the  evil  of 
extremes,  and  calmly  vindicated  practices  which 
she  had  probably  heard  condemned  wholesale  by 
more  violent  and  aggressive  Christians. 

He  pointed  out  to  her  how  remote  in  the  present 
instance  were  these  reputable  places  (the  concert 
hall  and  the  assembly  rooms)  "  dedicated  to  the 
improvement  of  music  and  graceful  motion,  where 
the  noble  and  gentle  youth  of  both  sexes  were 
introduced  into  the  polite  world,  and  gradually 
formed  to  appear  in  it  with  fashionable  propriety, 
was  that  ''profane,  opaque,  sequestered  cell"  into 
which  no  ray  of  the  sun  had  access,  where,  if 
report  might  be  credited,  blasphemy,  gaming  and 
foul  debauch  insulted  the  First  Day  of  every 
returning  week." 

-  Mr.   Walker  was  understood  to  refer  in  this 

212 


LADY   GLENORCHY'S   CHURCH 

contrast  to  a  club  maintained  by  the  upper  classes 
in  Edinburgh.  The  members  met  about  mid-day 
on  Saturday,  and  having  excluded  the  light  of  day, 
remained  together  in  that  condition  till  Monday. 

Lady  Glenorchy's  church  was  a  grey  stone  build- 
ing, destitute  of  all  architectural  merit,  like  many 
churches  of  the  period,  but  solid  and  capable  of 
holding  two  thousand  worshippers.  It  ranked 
with  what  were  called  chapels- of- ease,  with  this 
difference,  that  while  a  chapel- of- ease  is  in  con- 
nection with  a  particular  church  and  is  under  the 
control  of  its  minister — a  church  or  chapel  founded 
by  the  liberality  of  a  private  donor  is  only  under 
that  donor  and  the  Presbytery  in  which  it  is 
situated. 

With  a  lively  remembrance  of  the  trouble  which 
had  followed  on  the  undenominational  character 
of  her  chapel  of  St.  Mary's,  in  Niddry  Wynd,  Lady 
Glenorchy  wrote  to  the  Moderator  of  the  Edin- 
burgh Presbytery  asking  their  support  for  the 
church — which  was  to  be  Presbyterian  according 
to  the  doctrines  and  discipline  of  the  Church  of 
Scotland — and  received  a  cordial  reply. 

On  May  8th,  1774,  the  church  was  opened.  The 
sermon  in  the  morning  was  delivered  by  the  Rev. 
Doctor  John  Erskine,  one  of  the  ministers  of  the 
old  Grey  Friars  Church  and  the  colleague  of 
Doctor  Robertson,  the  historian  and  the  Principal 

213 
15— (»,v») 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

of  Edinburgh  University,  The  sermon  in  the 
afternoon  was  given  by  Lady  Glenorchy's  minister, 
Mr.  Walker,  of  the  High  Church.  She  was  present 
on  the  occasion,  and  so  anxious  was  she  to  make 
it  an  entire  day  of  solemn  supplication,  that  in 
the  interval  between  the  sermons  she  went  to 
St.  Cuthbert's  Chapel-of-ease  and  partook  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,  returning  to  her  own  church  in  the 
afternoon.  She  described  the  season  as  one  of 
''  sweet  joy  and  peace  in  believing." 

In  the  spring  of  the  next  year  Lady  Glenorchy 
went  to  England,  visiting  in  Bedfordshire  probably 
her  sister-in-law,  the  Marchioness  De  Gray,  and 
in  Staffordshire  the  Hills  at  Hawkestone.  She  went 
to  Buxton  for  the  mineral  waters.  These  saline 
springs,  whether  at  Bath,  Bristol,  Tunbridge Wells, 
etc.,  etc.,  were  then  at  the  height  of  their  repute. 

In  London  Lady  Glenorchy  accompanied  a 
friend  to  Pinner's  Hall,  where  what  were  called 
"  the  Merchants*  Lectures  "  were  deHvered  every 
Tuesday  morning.  The  lectures  or  sermons  had 
been  instituted  by  the  merchants  of  the  City  of 
London  a  hundred  years  before.  Six  of  the  most 
distinguished  ministers  in  the  city  and  suburbs 
were  appointed  by  a  committee  of  the  sub- 
scribers to  preach  alternately  each  week.  The 
institution  was  a  survival  of  the  godliness  of  past 
generations. 

214 


PINNER'S   HALL 

Pinner's  Hall  was  very  small,  and  the  congrega- 
tion which  the  old  minister  of  Fetter  Lane  addressed 
on  this  occasion  was  neither  numerous  nor  distin- 
guished. The  presence  in  the  primitive  assembly 
of  a  young  woman  of  Lady  Glenorchy's  station  in 
life  was  certain  to  be  known  and  noticed.  She 
must  have  appeared  like  a  vision  from  another 
world  to  a  raw  Welsh  lad,  a  student  of  Trevecca, 
who  happened  to  be  one  of  the  httle  company. 
He  recalled  long  afterwards  that  first  meeting, 
for  he  was  destined  to  find  in  the  lady  of  quahty 
so  unaffectedly  devout,  his  kind  and  generous 
patroness,  whose  biographer  he  eventually  became. 

After  Lady  Glenorchy's  usual  stay  at  Tay mouth 
she  returned  to  Edinburgh  in  the  autumn  of  1775. 
There  she  was  fated  to  find  once  more  that  the 
fulfilment  of  an  earnest  and  disinterested  purpose, 
which  had  taken  the  form  of  a  public  benefit, 
might  be  a  source  not  of  public  gratitude,  not  of 
tranquil  prosperity,  but  of  innumerable  crosses, 
and  much  anxiety  and  mortification. 

Having  committed  her  church  to  the  Presb3rtery 
within  whose  bounds  it  was  built,  and  received  the 
assurance  of  their  approval,  she  had  believed  all 
was  well.  She  no  longer  dreamt  of  bringing 
Wesleyans,  Methodists  and  Episcopalians  within 
its  Presbyterian  walls,  but  she  seemed  still  to  have 
had  a  hankering  after  an  English  instead  of  a 

215 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

Scotch  Presbyterian  to  be  settled  as  her  minister. 
Her  recent  visit  to  England  had  been  with  the 
intention  of  selecting  such  a  minister.  But  she 
had  not  found  one  disengaged  enough  to  respond 
to  her  advances,  or  more  to  her  mind,  after  all, 
than  the  gentleman — an  EngUsh  Presbyterian 
named  Grove,  who  had  been  in  charge  of  her 
church  for  the  last  three  months. 

The  origin  of  Lady  Glenorchy's  great  liking  for 
English  Presb3rterianism  may  have  owed  its 
existence  to  the  fact  that  it  was  in  England  she 
was  first  awakened  to  serious  thought.  It  was  to 
English  Calvinism  she  had  at  first  responded,  and 
in  the  circumstances,  in  the  somewhat  anomalous 
position  of  her  church  among  the  surrounding 
parish  churches,  she  possibly  felt  as  if  an  English 
orthodox  dissenter  would  be  more  in  place  than  a 
full-fledged  hcentiate  of  the  Church  of  Scotland. 

That  church  had  long  ago  consented  to  the 
system  of  patronage,  but  was  jealous  of  its  Uberty 
and  rigid  on  questions  of  organisation  and  disci- 
pline— the  very  questions  which  had  made  the 
leaders  of  the  United  Presbyterians  (Presbyterians 
of  the  Presbyterians)  refuse  to  receive  Whitefield 
into  communion  with  them. 

Mr.  Grove,  though  worthy  and  with  high 
quahfications  as  a  preacher,  which  rendered  him 
agreeable    to    the    mass    of     Lady    Glenorchy's 

216 


A  CHECK 

church-members,  was  opposed  by  a  minority 
because  of  his  opinions  or  lack  of  opinions  on 
church  order. 

On  the  other  hand,  an  unsettled  element  seemed 
to  have  got  into  the  congregation,  a  portion  of 
which  withdrew  from  the  church  as  a  church 
established  by  the  State,  and  joined  various  bodies 
of  Scotch  dissenters. 

But  Lady  Glenorchy  stood  by  Mr.  Grove  and 
made  application  to  the  Presbytery  on  his  behalf 
to  confirm  her  nomination  of  him  as  a  suitable 
pastor  for  her  church — well  known  to  the 
parishioners  and  generally  approved  by  them. 

To  her  great  surprise  and  annoyance  she  received 
the  following  answer  from  the  Presbytery : — 

"  Madam, — 

"  Your  ladyship's  letter  was  laid  before  us  ;  and 
although  we  continue  to  approve  of  your  pious 
intention  in  establishing  the  new  congregation 
within  our  bounds,  we  cannot  give  our  countenance 
to  any  person  being  admitted  minister  thereof 
until  we  have  satisfying  evidence  of  his  having 
been  regularly  Ucensed  and  ordained,  of  his  loyalty 
to  Government,  and  of  his  conforming  to  our 
standards.  We  have  the  honour  to  be  your 
ladyship's  most  obedient  and  most  humble 
servants, 

**  H.  MoNCRiEFF  Well  WOOD, 

"  Moderator." 
'Ill 


THE   COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

It  was  clear  that  the  old  offence  of  her  ultra- 
liberality  in  the  matter  of  denominationalism — 
her  acceptance  of  Episcopalians,  Wesleyans  and 
Methodists  to  officiate  in  St.  Mary's  Chapel— had 
not  been  forgotten.  It  had  so  prejudiced  the 
Presbytery — perhaps  not  without  excuse — against 
her  orthodoxy  as  a  daughter  of  the  Estabhshment, 
that  they  distrusted  her  and  her  church. 

She  had  certainly  given  them,  in  part  at  least, 
the  security  they  required  of  Grove's  loyalty  to 
the  Government,  and  his  adherence  to  the  doctrines 
of  the  Reformation  in  which  the  confessions  of 
both  churches  were  agreed. 

One  wonders  a  little  what  her  friend,  the  Rev. 
Robert  Walker,  who  took  such  a  kindly  interest 
in  her  affairs  and  was  so  wise  and  moderate  in  his 
judgment,  thought  of  the  imbroglio.  Probably, 
though  he  was  her  firm  ally  in  other  respects, 
he  sided  with  his  Presbytery,  for  he  was  a  minister 
of  the  Church  of  Scotland  before  any  other 
obligation. 

He  might  consider  her  leaning  to  Enghsh  dis- 
senters as  dangerous  and  well-nigh  perverse  (if  a 
saint  can  be  perverse).  He  had  already  distinctly 
refused  to  preach  in  her  Niddry  Wynd  chapel 
when  she  and  Lady  Maxwell  had  been  so  lax  as 
to  propose  to  admit  all  manner  of  English  dissenters 
to   engage  in   the   service  on   a  level   with  the 

218 


PROPOSAL  TO  LEAVE  BARNTON 

ministers  of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  which  was  not 
a  dissenting  church,  but  was  the  Church  of  the 
nation  and  of  the  State,  so  far  as  the  State  had  to 
do  with  Scotland. 

Lady  Glenorchy  was  grievously  hurt  on  account 
of  the  treatment  dealt  out  to  her  by  those  whom 
she  had  regarded  as  her  best  friends,  her  guides, 
teachers,  and  the  fathers  of  her  church.  She 
would  not  separate  her  church  from  the  vener- 
able Establishment  in  which  she  had  been  brought 
up,  of  which  she  was  a  member,  and  thereby 
render  it  a  Scotch  dissenting  church,  and  she 
was  so  sorely  wounded  by  the  strife  and  scandal 
which  arose  on  the  Presbytery's  mandate,  that  she, 
pre-eminently  a  peace  lover  and  in  her  own  person 
meek  and  long-suffering,  was  brought  to  propose 
to  the  great  regret  of  her  friends  to  sell  Barnton 
and  quit  Scotland. 

None  combated  this  hasty  resolve  with  more 
respectful  earnestness  and  good  judgment,  than 
did  Lady  Glenorchy's  friend.  Lady  Henrietta  Hope, 
and  doubtless  Lady  Henrietta's  protest  helped  to 
turn  the  scale,  or  at  least  to  keep  it  hanging  in 
abeyance. 

Mr.  Grove  was  another  of  the  six  Oxford 
students  who  got  into  disgrace  with  the  University 
for  their  religious  views.  Naturally  he  resented 
the  distrust  and  suspicion  with  which  he  was 

219 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

regarded  on  all  hands.  He  was  an  able,  spirited 
man,  sincere  in  his  convictions,  well-educated, 
well-bred,  and  possessed  of  a  certain  amount  of 
landed  property  in  England.  When  he  found 
that  Lady  Glenorchy,  however  disappointed  by 
the  way  in  which  matters  had  gone,  would  still 
abide  by  the  State  Church,  he  determined  to  return 
to  England  with  the  family  he  had  just  brought 
to  Scotland. 

But  there  was  no  hurry  and  no  asperity  shown 
by  the  parties  on  either  side  of  the  dispute.  As 
the  Grove  household  could  not  be  transported 
afresh  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  Mr.  Grove 
continued  to  preach  for  two  months  longer  in 
Lady  Glenorchy' s  church,  by  her  desire,  with  no 
opposition  on  the  part  of  the  Presb3rtery,  and  it 
was  not  till  after  his  departure  that  various 
neighbouring  ministers  took  his  place  in  her  pulpit. 


220 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Ladv  Glenorchy's  Advisers — An  Unexceptionable  Candidate — Objec- 
tions Nevertheless — Her  Defence — The  Majority  of  the  Presbytery 
Satisfied — The  Minority  Refer  the  Matter  to  the  Synod — Jupiter 
Carlyle  and  his  Followers — An  Injurious  Sentence — Lady  Glenor- 
chy's Friends  in  the  Synod  Appeal  to  the  General  Assembly — Her 
Candidate  Retires — She  Goes  to  England,  instructing  her  Agent 
to  Sell  Barnton — Lady  Glenorchy  is  Joined  by  Miss  Hill  in  a 
Missionary  Tour — Lady  Glenorchy's  Constancy  to  Old  Friends — 
Meeting  at  the  House  of  Mr.  Holmes,  the  Welsh  Lad  who  had  seen 
her  at  Pinner's  Hall — The  Press-gang  Employed  against  her  at 
Exmouth — Her  Reprisal — The  Case  in  the  General  Assembly 
Practically  Settled  in  her  Favour — Lady  Glenorchy's  Return  to 
Scotland — Pathetic  Episode  of  Mr.  Sheriff — Settlement  of  the 
Former  Student  of  Trevecca  in  "  Lady  Glenorchy's  Church." 

Lady  Glenorchy's  advisers  in  the  difficulty  in 
which  she  found  herself  were  no  mean  men  in  the 
Church  of  Scotland.  They  were  Mr.  Walker, 
Doctor  Webster,  Doctor  Dick,  and  Doctor  Erksine. 
Yielding  to  their  suggestions,  she  chose  a  minister 
in  the  room  of  Mr.  Grove  to  whom  it  was  thought 
not  even  the  most  captious  could  find  any 
exception. 

He  was  the  Rev.  Robert  Balfour,  already  a 
minister  in  the  Estabhshed  Church,  holding  a 
parish  near  Stirling.  He  was  a  native  of  Edin- 
burgh and  had  been  educated  at  Edinburgh 
schools  and  University.  He  was  a  licentiate  of 
the  Edinburgh  Presbytery.  He  bore  a  high 
character,  was  very  popular,  and  would  be  received 
with  acclamation  by  the  congregation. 

He  accepted  the  nomination  and  all  seemed  to 

221 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

smile  on  the  arrangement.  But  appearances  are 
deceitful,  and  where  there  are  malcontents  in  the 
assembly  they  will  without  fail  find  grounds  for 
revolt.  The  neglect  of  some  technicalities  which 
had  to  do  with  Mr.  Balfour's  introduction  to  his 
charge  by  a  member  of  the  Presbytery,  served  on 
this  occasion. 

The  demand  was  that  there  must  be  what  is 
entitled  a  "call"  from  the  congregation.  There 
must  be  legal  security  for  the  stipend  and  a  deci- 
sion which  would  put  the  collections  made  in  the 
church  under  the  administration  of  the  managers 
of  the  Charity  Workhouse. 

No  doubt  technicalities  must  be  attended  to, 
and  the  danger  of  establishing  precedents  requires 
careful  attention,  otherwise  the  last  two  stipula- 
tions were  invidious.  When  one  thought  that  the 
church  was  Lady  Glenorchy's.  built  by  her  of  her 
own  free  will,  they — the  Presbytery — might  have 
safely  trusted  to  her  to  endow  it.  She  wrote  with 
dignity  in  reply  to  their  announcement  of  this 
conclusion  at  which  the  Presbytery  had  arrived : 
"  It  was  a  matter  which  properly  belonged  to  me 
and  Mr.  Balfour.  His  acceptance  of  the  post  was 
a  proof  that  he  was  satisfied." 

In  the  same  manner  she  remarked  that  she,  or 
rather  the  trustees  she  had  appointed,  might  surely 
be  left  with  the  disposal  of  the  collections  made 

222 


"JUPITER"   CARLYLE 

in  the  church,  which  had  always  been  distributed 
among  the  poor  and  needy,  while  more  than  once 
part  of  them,  small  as  they  were,  had  been  sent 
to  the  treasurer  of  the  Charity  Workhouse. 

The  bulk  of  the  members  of  the  Presbytery 
declared  themselves  satisfied,  but  one  or  two 
brethren  dissented  from  the  others,  refused  to 
accept  Lady  Glenorchy's  explanation,  and  the 
business  was  carried  to  a  higher  court — the  Synod 
of  Lothian  and  Tweedale.  It  is  hardly  necessary 
to  point  out  that  the  majority  of  the  Edinburgh 
Presbytery  were  in  Lady  Glenorchy's  favour. 

It  was  not  so  in  the  Synod,  where  a  majority  of 
the  members — country  ministers  led  by  Carlyle 
of  Inveresk,  "  Jupiter  Carlyle  " — were  strongly 
opposed  to  her.  Jupiter  Carlyle  was  a  host  in 
himself,  with  his  imposing  personality,  his  authori- 
tative character,  and  his  literary  tastes,  which, 
like  those  of  Blair,  were  considerably  in  excess  of 
his  evangelical  attributes.  In  all  Ukelihood  he 
was  up  in  arms  for  the  honour,  dignity  and  inde- 
pendence of  the  Church  of  Scotland  which  he 
might  conceive  were  in  danger  of  being  subverted 
by  the  fanatical  Viscountess  with  her  leanings 
to  Wesleyan  Methodism,  and  her  preference 
for  English  divines,  whether  Episcopalians  or 
dissenters. 

Carlyle  and  his  party  had  sufficient  power  in  the 

223 


THE   COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

Synod  to  cause  the  passing  of  an  extreme  and 
injurious  sentence  forbidding  all  the  ministers  and 
probationers  within  the  Synod  to  preach  in  Lady 
Glenorchy's  church,  and  in  addition  requiring  that 
no  member  of  the  Synod  should  employ  a  minister 
of  the  said  church  to  officiate  in  his  pulpit. 

Thus  the  church  for  which  its  foundress  had 
nourished  such  high  hopes,  every  stone  of  which 
might  be  said  to  have  been  cemented  with  prayer, 
was  boycotted  and  made  in  a  sense  an  outcast 
among  State  churches,  while  Lady  Glenorchy  her- 
self and  all  she  had  done  for  the  Church  of 
Scotland  and  for  religion  were  dismissed  cavalierly- 

This  was  a  piece  of  glaring  injustice  which  her 
friends  and  advisers  would  not  suffer.  Mr.  Walker, 
Dr.  Erskine,  Dr.  Webster,  and  Mr.  Johnston,  of 
North  Leath,  at  once  protested  on  her  behalf,  and 
in  the  name  of  the  Presbytery  appealed  to  the  next 
General  Assembly — the  highest  Scotch  Church 
court. 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Balfour,  as  a  preparation 
for  repairing  to  Edinburgh,  had  resigned  his  parish, 
but  in  the  general  excitement  and  irritation  which 
the  whole  effort  had  provoked,  his  Presbytery, 
contrary  to  all  custom,  refused  to  accept  his 
resignation,  and  Balfour,  dreading  a  conflict  in 
the  church  courts,  gave  up  by  preference,  his 
nomination  to  Lady  Glenorchy's  church. 

224 


LADY  GLENORCHY  GOES  SOUTH 

All  this  was  discouraging  enough,  but  so  long 
as  the  act  of  the  Synod  was  not  known  to  her,  the 
withdrawal  of  Mr.  Balfour's  claim  seemed  to  end 
the  warfare  for  the  time.  Lady  Glenorchy's 
deUcate  health  had  not  been  improved  by  the 
tussle  with  the  Presbytery,  and  she  was  advised 
by  her  doctors  to  go  south  for  the  autumn  and 
winter  while  she  felt  at  liberty  to  take  the  course 
prescribed. 

In  the  middle  of  October,  1776,  she  set  out  with 
one  man  and  one  maid-servant,  having  previously 
sold  off  her  cattle  and  horses,  and  having  left 
orders  with  her  agent  to  sell  her  estate  of  Barnton 
when  a  purchaser  should  appear. 

In  the  soreness  of  her  heart  at  the  contradictions 
of  men  and  of  ministers,  that  idea  of  turning  her 
back  on  Scotland  was  present  with  her.  She 
travelled  as  far  as  Hawkestone,  where  she  was 
refreshed  by  the  constancy  and  kindness  of  the 
Hills,  and  her  own  special  friend  in  the  family 
having  joined  her's,  she  went  on  to  Bath  and  to 
Wells,  where  Miss  Hill's  married  sister  resided. 
There  never  seems  to  have  been  any  diminution  of 
the  regard  between  the  pair  early  attracted  to 
each  other.  Lady  Glenorchy  was  fidelity  personi- 
fied. The  periods  of  separation  had  not  eclipsed 
the  past.  The  other  friends  who  had  sprung  up 
round  her,  whom  she  relied  upon  with  the  same 

225 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

ingenuous,  implicit  trust,  one  of  whom  grew  dearer 
even  than  Miss  Hill,)  had  not,  however,  superseded 
that  prized  first  friend  and  counsellor  in  Lady 
Glenorchy's  affections.  If  the  old  ascendancy  of 
the  one  over  the  other  was  lessened  by  being  shared 
with  others  to  whom  Lady  Glenorchy  in  her 
lovable  humiUty  was  prone  to  look  up,  or  if  her 
sense  of  Miss  Hill's  infallibility  was  in  any  degree 
shaken,  as  the  hero  and  heroine- worship  of  youth 
is  apt  to  be  affected,  by  time,  there  is  only  one  sign 
of  it.  The  slight  inference  occurs  in  a  letter  in 
which  Lady  Glenorchy,  when  referring  to  the 
burden  of  responsibility  on  her  head,  remarks  that 
Miss  Hill,  who  was  visiting  her,  would  have  helped 
her  with  her  poor  people,  but  she  had  found  they 
could  not  understand  Miss  Hill. 

It  was  during  Lady  Glenorchy's  stay  at  Wells 
with  Miss  Hill's  sister,  Mrs.  Gudway,  that  the  blow 
of  the  decision  of  the  Synod  fell  upon  its  victim. 
She  would  hear  at  the  same  time  of  the  appeal  to 
the  Assembly.  But  what  misery  to  an  unassuming, 
retiring  and  loyal  nature  to  regard  herself  and 
her  church  as  a  bone  of  contention  in  the  Scotch 
Church  Courts ! 

On  the  last  day  of  November  Lady  Glenorchy 
and  Miss  Hill  journeyed  to  Essex,  where  they  were 
hospitably  entertained  by  a  Mr.  Holmes,  a  wealthy, 
retired  merchant,  a  man  of  great  philanthropy 

226 


THOMAS   SNELL  JONES 

and  piety,  whose  house  was  the  rallying  ground  and 
home  of  all  like-minded  persons,  especially  of  the 
poorer  evangelical  clergy,  toihng  at  their  posts  in 
the  neighbourhood. 

At  the  house  of  Mr.  Holmes,  the  Welsh  lad  who 
had  been  struck  by  the  sight  of  Lady  Glenorchy 
at  the  old-world  worship  of  the  "  Merchants* 
Lectures"  in  Pinner's  Hall,  met  her  again.  The 
young  man  was  Thomas  Snell  Jones,  grown  up, 
and  the  pastor  of  a  charge  at  Plymouth  Dock. 

After  the  dinner  at  which  they  were  both  present, 
she  showed  the  favourable  impression  he  had  made 
upon  her  by  asking  him  to  conduct  family  worship 
at  her  lodgings  that  evening  and  next  morning. 

In  the  course  of  a  fortnight  she  visited  Plymouth 
Dock,  and  during  the  six  weeks  she  remained 
there  Mr.  Jones  was  her  family  chaplain  morning 
and  evening. 

Lady  Glenorchy  went  next  to  Exmouth,  where 
another  clergyman,  who  had  joined  her,  preached 
frequently  and  gathered  a  congregation — not 
without  opposition.  While  dehvering  an  address 
in  what  was  called  "  the  Long  Room  " — probably 
of  the  inn  in  which  Lady  Glenorchy  was  staying — 
a  press-gang  sent  by  a  neighbouring  justice 
ordered  the  landlord  to  give  no  more  admission  to 
such  preachers  on  pain  of  losing  his  license,  and 
dispersed  the  meeting. 

227 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

This  was  the  signal  for  her  ladyship  to  step  into 
the  breach,  and  that  in  spite  of  the  recent  failures 
and  distress  to  which  she  had  been  exposed  in 
connection  with  her  church  in  Edinburgh.  Not- 
withstanding the  rough  and  uncivilised  population 
she  found  in  Exmouth,  which  daunted  even  the 
benevolence  of  Mr.  Holmes,  she  came  to  the  rescue 
unconquered  in  her  Christianity.  She  bought  a 
house  in  the  town,  had  it  fitted  up  as  a  place  of 
worship,  and  provided  pastors  to  preach  there, 
which  they  did  with  many  marks  of  success. 

Lady  Glenorchy  and  Miss  Hill  continued  their 
progress — a  kind  of  missionary  progress — in  which 
they  consorted  and  combined  forces  with  all  the 
serious-minded  people  in  the  district,  who  desired 
to  bring  the  Gospel  within  the  reach  of  the  poor 
and  ignorant. 

At  Dartmouth  Mr.  Jones,  who  was  of  the  party, 
preached  in  a  meeting-house  belonging  to  a  pious 
lady,  but  the  people  were  rude  and  behaved  ill. 

At  Totnes  a  fire  broke  out  in  the  inn  and  burnt 
till  its  proprietors  and  customers  were  driven  into 
the  street,  and  exposed  to  the  night  air  in  the 
middle  of  the  night,  but  they  suffered  no  harm, 
though  the  weather  was  damp. 

At  Southampton  the  travellers  were  consoled 
for  being  badly  accommodated,  and  uncivilly  used 
by  the  people  of  the  inn  where  they  stopped,  in 

228 


A  COMPROMISE 

having  reason  to  believe  that  the  waiter  who 
attended  on  them  had  been  savingly  impressed. 
In  February  the  travellers  crossed  to  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  where  they  feared  they  would  do  no  good, 
but  at  the  instigation  of  Lady  Glenorchy  they 
prayed  that  a  door  might  be  opened  for  them,  and 
next  day  a  meeting-house  was  offered  for  their 
use. 

Returning  by  Portsmouth,  her  ladyship,  accord- 
ing to  her  habit  in  seasons  of  perplexity,  halted 
and  set  apart  a  day  for  *'  solemn  and  extra- 
ordinary prayer  "  that  God  would  overrule  the 
deliberations  of  the  General  Assembly  respecting 
her  church,  for  His  glory. 

One  of  her  special  petitions  was  that  she  should 
be  directed  concerning  her  future  place  of  residence, 
and  led  to  go  wherever  she  might  be  of  most  use 
in  the  work  of  God,  and  might  be  kept  from  all 
selfish  motives  whatever  in  her  choice.  For  she 
had  resolved  that,  according  to  the  action  of  the 
Assembly,  she  would  either  remain  in  England  or 
return  to  Scotland. 

The  case  was  argued  in  the  Assembly  for  two 
days,  many  ministers  and  elders  speaking 
for  and  against  Lady  Glenorchy's  side  of  the 
question.  The  result  was  a  compromise,  while  the 
Assembly  disapproved  of  the  easy  and  uncon- 
ventional manner  in  which  Dr.  Webster  was  to 

229 

lb— (2300. 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

have  introduced  Mr.  Balfour  to  his  new  flock,  it 
reversed  the  decision  of  the  Synod  in  which  they 
had  as  it  were,  put  Lady  Glenorchy's  church 
beyond  the  pale  by  forbidding  any  communication 
between  it  and  the  other  churches  in  the  Synod. 

This  entire  withdrawal  of  the  stigma  which  had 
been  cast  on  her  and  her  church,  removed  the 
obstacle  to  Lady  Glenorchy's  returning  to  her 
native  country,  and  was  taken  by  her  as  a  sign 
that  God  had  still  work  for  her  to  do  there.  She 
was  back  in  Edinburgh  by  June,  when,  though  she 
was  relieved  on  the  main  point,  she  was  plunged 
anew  into  uncertainty  on  another.  The  Assembly 
had  vindicated  her,  but  her  church  did  not  yet 
have  a  settled  minister.  There  was  no  reluctance 
on  the  part  of  the  Established  Church  ministers 
to  supply  the  church  with  temporary  preachers, 
but  after  Mr.  Balfour's  experience  the  most  of 
these  were  likely  to  fight  shy  of  accepting  a  nomina- 
tion on  Lady  Glenorchy's  part,  and  having  to  face 
further  prejudice  and  antagonism  on  the  part  of  a 
strong  party  of  their  brethren. 

In  her  renewed  difficulty  she  was  thankful  to 
find  it  apparently  solved  by  what  she  heard  of  a 
Mr.  Travers  Sheriff,  a  chaplain  in  a  Scotch 
regiment  in  Holland.  He  had  been  educated  at 
the  University  of  Edinburgh,  and  licensed  by  the 
Presbytery  of  Haddington.     He  could  resign  his 

290 


TRAVERS   SHERIFF 

position  as  chaplain  free  from  the  intervention  of 
any  Church  court.  He  wished  to  leave  the  Army 
and  get  a  charge  in  Scotland,  as  his  doctors  agreed 
that  his  health  was  suffering  from  the  Dutch 
cUmate. 

Individually  he  was  twenty-seven  years  of  age, 
accompHshed  and  attractive,  with  a  single-hearted 
ardour  in  his  calling.  Was  not  this  the  right  man 
found  at  last  ?  Lady  Glenorchy  hoped  and 
trusted  so. 

But  there  was  a  drawback ;  though  the  few 
sermons  he  preached  were  much  admired  by  his 
hearers,  though  he  had  the  courage  to  go,  of  his 
own  accord,  to  the  first  meeting  of  Presbytery  after 
his  arrival  in  Edinburgh,  to  announce  that  he  had 
received  and  accepted  Lady  Glenorchy's  nomina- 
tion, he  was  met  so  coolly  and  with  such  murmurs 
of  opposition,  that  he  refrained  from  offering  to 
sign  the  confession  of  faith  and  other  formula,  as 
he  had  intended  to  do. 

His  dehcate  health  proved  a  grave  impediment. 
It  was  so  evident  that  Lady  Glenorchy,  eager  not 
to  be  foiled  once  more  and  always  generous  and 
hberal,  at  once  engaged  an  assistant  to  render  his 
duties  Hghter.  But  his  disease — consumption — 
had  too  fast  hold  on  him.  He  barely  entered  on 
his  office,  he  preached  once  more,  when  Lady 
Henrietta  Hope,  in  recording  her  appreciation  of 

231 


THE   COUNTESS   OF  HUNTINGDON 

the  sermon,  added  the  sad  anticipation  that  the 
first  time  she  had  heard  him  would  also  be  the  last. 

He  presided  at  the  dispensing  of  the  Lord's 
Supper,  "  fencing  the  tables "  and  giving  the 
closing  exhortation,  and  then  his  work  was  done 
and  his  short  life  nearing  its  end.  Everybody  was 
ready  to  sympathise  and  help.  Mr.  Balfour,  who 
was  to  have  been  Lady  Glenorchy's  pastor,  came 
and  preached  on  the  Monday  after  the  Sacrament 
Sunday  ;  as  it  happened  he  performed  the  same 
service  in  the  church  for  forty  years. 

Nothing  could  exceed  Lady  Glenorchy's  kind- 
ness to  the  poor  young  minister  by  whom  she  was 
baffled  again  through  no  fault  of  his. 

She  had  him  removed  to  Barnton,  sent  for  his 
mother  and  with  her  nursed  him  day  and  night, 
setting  herself  not  only  to  minister  to  his  bodily 
comfort,  but  to  cheer  his  fainting  spirit  with 
heavenly  consolation.  She  rejoiced  in  the  faith 
and  peace  of  his  death-bed,  and  prized  deeply  every 
word  which  fell  from  his  lips  in  their  sacred 
communings. 

Now  and  then  his  opinion  of  his  condition 
fluctuated,  and  he  had  hopes  of  his  recovery,  when 
her  tender  conscience  tormented  her  between  the 
fear  of  hurting  him  by  telling  him  what  she 
thought  of  his  state  and  the  belief  that  it  was  her 
duty  not  to  suffer  him  to  continue  under  a  delusion. 

232 


SHERIFF   DIES 

The  delusion  did  not  last,  for  the  day  but  one 
before  he  died  he  spent  many  hours  in  praise  that 
was  not  merely  submission,  it  was  triumph,  and 
in  a  dying  man's  exhaustion  he  strove  to  speak 
words  of  cheer  to  those  he  was  about  to  leave 
behind. 

To  her  he  said  :  "  Submit,  it  is  the  Lord's  doing  ; 
we  shall  live  together  with  him  for  ever  :  He  has 
saved  me,  he  will  save  you,  my  dear  friend."  His 
final  words  were,  "  All  is  well."  She  stayed  with 
him  to  the  last ;  she  did  not  spare  herself  in  any- 
thing in  which  she  could  be  of  service  to  him  and 
his.  She  was  present  as  a  mark  of  respect  and  in 
order  to  be  a  support  to  his  mother  at  his  "  chest- 
ing "  (when  he  was  laid  in  his  coffin)  and  she  went 
into  the  Barnton  vault  to  see  where  the  coffin  was 
to  find  its  last  resting-place. 

When  all  was  over  she  returned  to  Edinburgh 
to  take  up  her  duties  again,  chastened  but  not 
overwhelmed.  One  of  her  first  obligations  was 
the  one  which  might  well  seem  hopeless — that  of 
resuming  her  search  for  a  desirable  minister  to 
replace  Mr.  Sheriff.  She  made  further  advances 
to  a  parish  minister  of  the  Established  Church,  a 
Mr.  Carmichael,  of  Carmunnok,  but  he  did  not 
covet  the  experience  of  Mr.  Balfour,  and  so  decUned 
her  overtures. 

Indeed  a  bad  odour  began  to  attach  itself  to  the 

233 


THE   COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

church  of  many  prayers  and  sacrifices.  In  Scot- 
land no  charge  was  more  dreaded  by  probationers 
and  ministers,  or  was  more  fatal  to  their  prospects 
of  credit  and  usefulness,  than  the  accusation — 
often  more  or  less  vague — of  unsoundness  in  their 
church's  doctrines  and  discipline,  with  the  risk 
of  the  men  being  drawn  into  practically  endless 
lawsuits  in  the  Church  Courts. 

Lady  Glenorchy  again  turned  her  thoughts  to 
English  Presbyterians.  She  sent  a  man  she  reUed 
upon,  a  Mr.  Dickie,  to  London  to  approach  a  Mr. 
Clayden,  whom  she  hoped  to  secure.  But  Mr. 
Clayden  had  a  flourishing  congregation  of  his  own 
in  London,  and  did  not  see  himself  warranted  in 
forsaking  it  for  an  Edinburgh  church,  even  with 
so  devoted  a  patroness.  Perhaps  some  echoes  had 
reached  him  of  the  misfortunes  which  had  befallen 
all  the  previous  efforts  to  settle  a  pastor  in  the 
church. 

Then  the  dragging,  wearing  trouble  was  brought 
to  an  end.  At  last,  as  a  final  resource,  she  applied 
to  her  Welsh  chaplain,  Mr.  Jones,  invited  him  to 
preach  for  some  months  in  the  church,  and,  if  he 
saw  his  way  and  was  acceptable,  she  asked  him  to 
accept  her  nomination  to  the  pastorate.  Mr. 
Jones  was  respected  and  hked  by  the  people,  and 
had  only  to  repair  to  London  to  be  fully  ordained 
and  licensed  as  a  Presbyterian  minister,  and  to 

234 


CHOICE   OF   A   NEW   PASTOR 

return  and  present  his  credentials  to  the  Presby- 
tery. Probably  they  were  as  weary  of  the  not 
very  seemly  contention  as  the  others  concerned 
were,  or  the  fate  of  the  last  candidate  softened 
them,  for  when  he  volunteered,  as  poor  young 
Sheriff  had  done,  to  sign  the  Confession  of  Faith, 
etc.,  etc.,  they  no  longer  chilled  him  with  ungra- 
cious looks  and  unpropitious  whispers,  but  received 
him  frankly  into  their  ranks. 

It  is  not  easy  to  see  at  this  distance  of  time  why 
Lady  Glenorchy  had  not  sooner  brought  forward 
Mr.  Jones  as  a  candidate  for  her  church.  The 
most  feasible  explanation  is  to  be  found  in  the  fact 
that,  though  her  liking  and  esteem  for  him  were 
unquestionable,  it  had  not  unnaturally  detracted 
somewhat  from  his  qualifications  as  her  minister 
that  he  had  been  a  poor  Welsh  lad,  one  of  her 
friend  Lady  Huntingdon's  Trevecca  students, 
maintained  at  her  college  by  charity.  Lady 
Glenorchy,  in  her  first  aspirations,  had  wished  to 
get  a  minister  more  on  a  level  with  herself,  socially, 
gently  born  and  bred,  with  a  University  training, 
with  whom  it  would  be  easier  and  more  agreeable 
for  her  to  be  on  intimate  terms.  All  the  first  men 
she  selected  to  be  her  chaplains  and  ministers  who 
were  rejected  in  turn  by  the  congregation  or  the 
Presbytery,  or  who  would  not  undertake  the  task 
proposed  to  them,  Middleton,  De  Courcy,  Grove, 

235 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

Balfour,  Sheriff,  Carmichael,  were  gentlemen  by 
birth  and  education,  and  while  she  was  the  last 
woman  to  value  such  an  accidental  advantage 
above  godliness,  yet  if  the  advantage  were  allied 
with  godliness  the  preference  was  simple  and 
natural. 


236 


CHAPTER  XVII 

The  Hills  of  Havvkestone — Jane  Hill  and  her  Little  Brother — Richard 
Hill  Carrying  his  Enquiries  to  Fletcher  of  Madeley — Jane  Hill's 
Letters — The  Value  Lady  Glenorchy  set  upon  them — Family 
Divisions  in  the  Eighteenth  Century — Sir  Rowland  Hill's  Merits 
as  a  Man  and  as  a  Father — Young  Rowland  Announcing  his  Brother 
to  Preach — Jane  Hill's  Inherent  Gentleness  and  Modesty — Rowland 
Hill's  Recollection  of  the  Early  Bitterness  of  the  Conflict — Refusal 
of  Six  Bishops  to  Ordain  him — Jane  Hill's  Abundant  Tribulation — 
Her  Consolation  in  the  Friendships  she  shared — A  Quaint  Quartette 
at  Taymouth — Rowland's  Moderate  Means — His  Marriage  Helping 
him  to  Independence — No  Reason  to  Regard  the  Couple  as  Ill- 
matched — Sir  Rowland's  Second  Marriage  and  Death — Sir  Richard's 
Support  of  the  Methodists — One  of  the  Trevecca  Anniversaries 
at  which  both  Rowland  and  Jane  Hill  were  Present — Sir  John 
Hill's  Five  Soldier  Sons — What  would  Jane  Hill  have  thought  of 
the  great  London  Illumination  and  the  Transparency  set  in  front 
of  Surrey  Chapel  illustrating  the  words  "  The  Tyrant  has  Fallen  ?  " 
— The  Courage  of  Rowland  the  Soldier  and  Rowland  the  Preacher — 
Darcy  Brisbane  of  Brisbane  afterwards  Lady  Maxwell  of  PoUok, 
born  about  1742 — In  London  at  Sixteen  to  be  Presented  at  Court — 
At  Seventeen  Married  to  Sir  Walter  Maxwell  of  Pollok — Death  of 
Husband  and  Child — Her  Unsuccessful  Suitors — Her  House  in 
Princes  Street,  Edinburgh — Her  Acceptance  of  Wesleyan  Tenets — 
Her  Friendship  with  Lady  Glenorchy — Lady  Maxwell's  Adopted 
Daughter,  Lady  Henrietta  Hope — The  Blow  to  Lady  Maxwell  of 
Lady  Henrietta  Hope's  Death — Weekly  Gathering  of  Wesleyan 
Ministers  at  Lady  Maxwell's  House — A  Day  of  her  Life — Her 
Signed  Covenant  with  her  Maker — Her  Assured  Faith  Alike  in  her 
Justification  and  Sanctification — Her  Gifts  to  John  Wesley — 
Her  Schools  and  Sunday  Schools,  her  Fidelity  to  Lady  Glenorchy 's 
Trust  and  her  Visits  to  England  as  Lady  Glenorchy's  Representative 
— Lady  Maxwell's  Premature  Infirmity — Her  Peaceful  Death  at  the 
Age  of  Sixty-eight  in  1810. 

Miss  Hill,  of  Hawkestone,  was  the  elder  daughter 
of  Sir  Rowland  Hill,  the  representative  of  an 
ancient  Shropshire  family,  one  of  whom  was  the 
first  Protestant  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  a  man  of 
great  wealth,  public  spirit  and  beneficence — a 
founder  of  churches  and  schools,  one  of  the  earlier 
benefactors  of  Christ's  Hospital,  so  that  the  element 

237 


THE  COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

of  heredity  must  be  reckoned  with  in  summing-up 
the  virtues  of  a  notable  Enghsh  family. 

The  family  in  which  Jane  Hill  was  born  was  one 
of  many  children,  her  father,  one  of  the  numerous 
Sir  Rowland  Hills,  having  eleven  sons  and  two 
daughters,  thirteen  in  all,  so  that  the  great  house 
in  its  spacious  and  beautiful  grounds  was  full  of 
life.  Though  several  of  the  sons  died  in  infancy, 
six  survived,  of  whom  Rowland,  the  famous  divine 
and  orator,  was  one  of  the  younger  brothers.  Two 
others,  the  Rev.  Robert  and  the  Rev.  Brian,  were 
also  clergymen  without  attracting  particular 
notice.  Indeed  the  younger  Brian,  the  friend  of 
Bishop  Heber,  never  took  a  charge  on  account  of 
a  religious  scruple,  and  was  satisfied  to  be  a  chap- 
lain. Jane  was  one  of  the  elder  members  of  the 
family  much  in  association  with  the  eldest  son, 
Richard.  She  was  so  many  years  in  advance  of 
the  lively,  lovable  little  Rowland,  or  "  Rowley," 
that  along  with  their  mother  she  taught  him  his 
letters,  and  carried  on  his  lessons  till  he  was  sent 
to  Eton.  Her  guardianship  of  the  boy  did  not 
end  there.  She  and  his  brother  Richard,  in  both 
of  whom  strong  reUgious  impressions  had  already 
been  awakened,  wrote  to  Rowland  urgent  letters 
of  serious  advice,  striving  to  preserve  in  the  boy 
the  devout  feehngs  said  to  have  been  aroused  in 
the  child  by  Isaac  Watts' s  hymns  for  children. 

238 


ROWLAND   AND   JANE   HILL 

Undoubtedly  the  sister  and  brother  were  success- 
ful. Rowland  Hill  was  a  Nazarite  from  his  birth, 
and  while  still  a  merry  school  boy  distinguished  for 
fun  and  frolic,  was  equally  remarkable  on  that  side 
of  him  which  was  already  so  earnest  and  so  singu- 
larly attractive  in  its  devotion,  that  he  gathered 
around  him  a  group  of  genuinely  religious  boys 
who  vindicated  the  sincerity  of  their  profession 
— alike  then,  when  the  youthful  disciples  were 
exposed  to  the  ridicule  so  overwhelming  at  their 
age,  and  when  grown  men  with  men's  careers. 

The  same  faithfully  pleading  letters — pleading 
for  the  higher  life,  from  his  sister,  followed  Rowland 
Hill  to  Cambridge  and  continued  to  stimulate  and 
comfort  him  when  his  lines  had  fallen  in  less 
pleasant  places  than  at  Eton.  So  great  was  the 
odium  attached  to  his  principles  that,  among  all 
the  undergraduates  and  tutors,  he  could  in  after 
years  recall,  as  the  only  cordial  face  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  meet,  that  of  the  shoeblack  at  the  gate 
of  his  college.  Eventually  he  made  some  way 
against  the  bitter  prejudices  with  which  he  was 
assailed.  He  found  some  congenial  spirits  in 
other  colleges,  and  although  he  did  not  conquer 
the  hostility  of  the  head  of  his  college,  his  tutor 
stood  by  him  generously. 

It  is  impossible  to  say  what  influence  first 
impelled  Jane  to  shun  the    broad  path  and  the 

239 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

green,  and  to  choose  the  narrow,  thorny  way.  It 
may  have  been  the  example  of  her  brother 
Richard  with  whom  she  was  ultimately  in  close 
alliance. 

As  quite  a  young  man,  surrounded  by  all  the 
outward  advantages  which  could  make  youth  glad 
and  gay,  and  being  naturally,  in  place  of  sombre 
and  morose,  on  the  contrary  like  young  Rowland, 
lively  and  witty,  Richard  Hill  could  not  rest  under 
a  sense  of  sin,  degradation  and  danger,  and  the 
necessity  for  a  new  life.  He  had  no  peace  until  he 
had  written  to  Fletcher  of  Madeley,  with  whom 
he  had  not  a  previous  acquaintance,  asking  him 
to  meet  him  at  an  inn  in  Shrewsbury,  and  resolve 
his  doubts.  From  the  date  of  that  interview, 
though  afterwards  he  differed  from  Fletcher  on 
various  controversial  grounds,  and  even  wrote 
publicly  in  opposition  to  his  teacher,  he  became, 
without  any  attempt  at  concealment,  a  changed 
man.  He  immediately  set  about  communicating 
his  views  to  others  as  vital  to  their  highest — their 
eternal  interests,  speaking  on  the  subject  to  the 
servants  and  the  tenants  on  the  estate,  and 
teaching — even  preaching  to  the  poor — in  the 
neighbouring  villages. 

In  all  these  practices  Richard  Hill's  sister  Jane 
is  constantly  referred  to  as  joining  and  aiding  him. 
The  younger  daughter  in  the  family  agreed  with 

240 


JANE   HILL'S   LETTERS 

the  two  in  their  opinions,  but  her  marriage  and 
removal  to  Somersetshire  withdrew  her  from  the 
pair,  who  were  coming  forward  prominently  in 
asserting  their  belief,  and  were  making  it  practical 
by  acting  as  missionaries  to  what  was  little  better 
than  the  heathen  ignorance  of  masses  around 
them. 

It  was  possibly  in  thus  early  filling  the  post  of 
expositor  of  the  truth  to  those  who  were  hving  in 
spiritual  darkness  that  Jane  Hill  acquired  the 
habit  of  entering  on  those  long  and  elaborate 
expositions  of  the  Gospel  message  for  which  she 
has  been  known.  And  it  would  be  a  great  mistake 
to  suppose  that  her  letters  were  not  valued  by 
the  recipients  and  much  admired  by  the  religious 
pubUc  before  which  they  were  destined  to  come. 
To  a  later  generation  the  letters  may  read  simply 
as  endless  repetitions  of  truths  known  to  the 
ordinary  Christian  from  childhood.  But  it  was 
not  so  when  the  letters  were  first  written  and  read 
in  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  which 
was  very  different  in  every  description  of  know- 
ledge— religious  knowledge  included — from  the 
latter  end  of  the  nineteenth  or  the  beginning  of  the 
twentieth  centuries. 

Miss  Hill's  illuminating  statements  and  exhorta- 
tions were  as  refreshing  as  cold  water  to  the  thirsty 
traveller    in    the   desert  when  they  reached  her 

241 


THE   COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON 

friend,  Lady  Glenorchy,  in  her  splendid  retreat 
in  a  Highland  wilderness.  Not  only  were  the  bulky 
originals  treasured,  but  careful  copies  of  their  con- 
tents, the  labour  of  love  of  many  patient  hours, 
were  found  in  Lady  Glenorchy' s  handwriting.  When 
the  letters  were  pubhshed  they  were  highly  prized 
as  clear,  flowing  statements,  fresh  with  the  enthu- 
siasm of  a  true  Christian,  of  what  was  wont  to  be 
called  "  the  Gospel  scheme." 

That  Jane  Hill,  of  whose  personal  appearance 
no  record  has  been  found,  was  a  woman  of  very 
considerable  strength  of  mind  and  character  is 
abundantly  shown  by  the  fact  that  she  stood  up 
for  the  truth  in  her  eyes  and  for  the  service  of  her 
Master  in  a  house  which,  alas  !  was  divided  against 
itself.  For  though  she  had  powerful  alHes  in  two 
of  her  brothers,  her  father  and  mother  were  indig- 
nantly opposed  to  the  convictions  and  conduct  of 
their  irrestrainable  juniors. 

It  did  not  make  it  much  better  that  the  position 
was  not  uncommon,  for  surely  never  since  Christian- 
ity was  introduced  into  the  British  Islands  and  had 
to  combat  the  hoary  superstition  of  Druidism — 
hardly  even  at  the  Reformation  from  Roman 
Catholicism— were  there  more  divisions  in  families 
than  occurred  in  the  eighteenth  century. 

Neither  could  it  have  altogether  lessened  the 
pain,  on  the  contrary,  it  must  have  intensified 

242 


FAMILY   DIVISIONS 

it  in  some  respects,  though  it  minimised  the  condi- 
tions of  the  strife,  that  the  parents  in  this  case  were 
the  "  dear  parents,"  honoured  in  every  other 
relation  except  in  what  had  to  do  with  the  new 
interpretation  of  Christian  obhgations.  Sir  Row- 
land might  be  a  despot  in  desiring  to  control  his 
children's  consciences  in  what  they  regarded  as 
binding  obligations,  but  he  was  by  no  means — 
especially  as  compared  to  other  fathers  of  his  day — 
radically  unjust,  or  even  consistently  and  habitu- 
ally harsh,  though  he  might  indulge  in  useless, 
obstinate  prohibitions  and  in  occasional  explosions 
of  wrath. 

He  did  not  alienate  his  sons'  inheritance, 
granting  that  at  one  time  he  reduced  Rowland's 
allowance  with  the  idea  that  it  might  put  his 
itinerating  preaching  out  of  his  power,  and  that 
on  a  certain  Sunday  Sir  Rowland  positively  forbade 
the  lad  to  leave  his  family,  a  direct  command  which 
was  obeyed. 

Still,  the  head  of  the  house  suffered  both  sons 
and  daughters,  while  staying  under  his  roof  and 
being  well  acquainted  with  his  views  and  wishes, 
deliberately  to  transgress  them  by  their  ministra- 
tions under  his  very  nose,  as  it  were,  to  their 
neighbours  around  them. 

A  curious  instance  is  given  of  the  inveteracy  and 
audacity  of  the  volunteer  preachers  in  pursuing 

243 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

the  course  which  their  consciences  indicated. 
Sir  Rowland,  having  succeeded  so  far  in  persuad- 
ing Richard,  his  heir,  to  exhibit  his  Christianity  in 
some  other  forms  than  in  those  of  teaching  and 
preaching,  ventured  to  send  him  after  his  younger 
brother  to  recall  him,  if  possible,  from  one  of  his 
campaigns. 

Rowland  was  preaching  in  the  open  air  in  the 
market-place  of  a  country  town,  when  his  eye 
caught  the  approaching  figure  of  Richard  Hill,  and 
his  quick  intelligence  guessed  the  errand  on  which 
he  had  come.  Quietly  finishing  his  discourse,  he 
gave  out  an  announcement  :  "  Richard  Hill,  Esq., 
will  preach  the  sermon  here  at  the  same  time 
to-morrow." 

And  Richard  did  not  fail  Rowland,  his  own 
convictions  and  the  people  hanging  wonder-struck 
on  the  words  of  the  baronet's  sons  turned  field- 
preachers,  however  he  might  fail  the  testy  perplexed 
baronet,  his  father. 

When  one  considers  the  state  of  tutelage  in 
which  children — grown  men  and  women — stood 
to  their  fathers  in  that  generation,  and  the  degree 
of  respect — well-nigh  reverence — and  submission 
which  was  expected  from  the  younger  members 
of  famines  to  their  elders,  together  with  the 
uprightness  of  conduct  and  blamelessness  of  inten- 
tion on  the  part  of  the  rebels,  there  could  not  have 

244 


PARENTAL  AUTHORITY 

been  a  more  convincing  proof  of  the  depth  and 
intensity  of  their  faith  in  this  resistance  to  lawful 
authority,  this  defiance  of  the  sacred  patriarchal 
institution  which  is  the  basis  and  bulwark  of  all 
family  ties. 

On  the  other  hand,  however,  the  innocent,  heroic 
malcontents  might  be  inspired  by  a  vivid  concep- 
tion of  the  approval  of  their  Divine  Master  whose 
cause  they  believed  they  were  promoting  by 
preferring  Him  and  His  command  to  publish  the 
good  tidings  which  had  reached  them  to  the 
mistaken  wishes  of  their  father  and  mother — how- 
ever supported  by  a  sense  of  the  highest  duty  and 
fortified  by  the  encouragement  of  friends  outside 
the  family — it  must  have  been,  in  proportion  to  the 
very  virtues  of  the  actors,  inexpressibly  painful, 
unutterably  irksome  and  wearing  to  maintain  for 
a  long  period  of  years  the  internal  warfare  with 
those  whom  in  every  other  light  the  offenders 
loved,  honoured,  and  sought  to  please. 

The  heaviest  portion  of  this  trial  must  have  fallen 
on  the  home  daughter,  who  was  exposed  to  it  for 
a  permanency.  Neither  was  she,  in  spite  of  her 
staunchness  of  principle  and  readiness  of  speech 
and  pen,  of  such  a  disposition  as  to  render  the 
division  in  the  family  a  light  matter  to  her. 

One  who  ought  to  have  known  her  from  the 
testimony  of  her  nearest  and  dearest,  who  held  her 

245 

17— (23«>' 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

to  the  last  in  affectionate,  grateful  regard,  reports 
that  she  was  gentle  rather  than  bold,  inclined  to 
withdraw  into  the  background  so  far  as  she  herself 
was  concerned,  with  shy,  retiring  modesty,  rather 
than  to  put  herself  forward  and  claim  notice. 
Her  kinsman  of  a  later  generation  could  apply  to 
her  without  any  sense  of  incongruity  the  fine 
word-picture  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  "  Like  a  fair 
light  when  she  shined  to  all  the  room,  yet  round 
and  about  her  own  station  she  had  cast  a 
shadow  and  a  cloud,  she  shined  to  everybody  but 
herself." 

If  Rowland  Hill  in  his  honoured  age  could  say 
to  a  lady  who  was  walking  with  him,  a  witness  to 
the  affection  and  respect  with  which  he  was  treated 
by  all  the  members  of  his  family,  "  In  my  youth  I 
have  paced  this  terrace  bitterly  weeping,  regarded 
by  most  of  the  inhabitants  of  that  house  as  a  dis- 
grace to  the  family,"  it  is  certain  that  one  of  the 
house's  inhabitants  who  had  never  so  regarded 
him  shared  his  pain.  Nay,  that  she  had  special 
additions  to  it,  of  which  he — high-spirited  well-nigh 
to  recklessness,  was  not  capable. 

When  six  different  bishops  refused  to  ordain 
Rowland  Hill  and  it  was  only  by  the  influence  of 
his  brother-in-law,  the  member  for  Wells,  that  the 
Bishop  of  Wells  was  induced  to  admit  him  to 
deacons'  orders,  and   even   then  an   Archbishop 

246 


ROWLAND    HILL    REFUSED    ORDINATION 

interposed  to  keep  him  from  advancing  to  the 
higher  grade  of  priest,  it  is  probable  that  his 
mortification  and  disappointment  were  not  equal 
to  hers  whose  pet  pupil  and  comrade  he  had  been 
in  turn. 

When  the  strange  nervousness  beset  him, 
alternating  with  the  humorous  originality  amount- 
ing to  eccentricity — a  conspicuous  strain  in  his 
temperament — did  she  not  tremble  in  her  woman's 
timidity  lest  he  should  be  betrayed  into  saying 
or  doing  anything  derogatory  to  the  dignity  and 
solemnity  of  his  office  ? 

When  he  addressed  and  roused  furious  mobs 
that  in  return  hooted  and  hunted  him,  pelted  him 
with  filth  and  stones,  did  she  not  quail  for  his 
personal  safety — she  who  had  mothered  him  in  his 
bright  childhood,  stood  by  him  all  along,  hoped 
great  things  for  him  in  his  Maker's  service, 
brought  herself  to  offer  up  him — even  him — as  a 
sacrifice  to  that  Maker's  cause — lest  already  in  his 
first  youth  the  completion  of  the  sacrifice  should 
be  required  ? 

And  all  the  while  she  had  to  struggle  against 
weak  health,  to  endure  the  recurring  fret  of  their 
father  and  mother's  displeasure  and  condemnation. 
Truly,  Jane  Hill,  as  all  who  have  experienced  a 
similar  family  situation  will  agree,  though  she  was 
raised  far  above  ordinary  worldly  adversity,  had 

247 


THE   COUNTESS   OF  HUNTINGDON 

her  portion  of  the  tribulation  which  is  part  of  the 
inheritance  of  the  saints. 

In  the  circumstances,  the  friendship  and  the 
occasional  sojourns  with  such  women  as  Lady 
Huntingdon  and  Miss  Hill's  contemporaries,  Lady 
Glenorchy  and  Lady  Anne  Erskine,  must  have  been 
precious  to  her.  Apparently  there  was  a  proposal 
which  fell  to  the  ground  of  her  brother  Rowland's 
joining  her  in  a  visit  to  Taymouth.  When 
contrasting  how  different  his  experience  of  the 
state  and  magnificence  of  Lord  Breadalbane's 
establishment  would  have  been  from  the  life  of  the 
vagabond  preacher,  his  biographer  gives  a  curious 
instance  of  the  evenings  at  the  Castle  made  festal 
by  music,  to  which  neither  Lady  Glenorchy  nor 
Miss  Hill  went  so  far  as  to  object  as  inadmissible 
in  a  Christian  household.  Lady  Glenorchy,  the 
most  accomplished  of  the  performers,  would  play 
and  sing  for  the  gratification  of  the  company  to 
the  surprising  accompaniment  of  "  two  violins  and 
Lord  Balgonie  on  the  bagpipes,"  surely  quaintest 
of  all  quartettes  ! 

On  another  occasion,  when  Jane  Hill  and  Lady 
Glenorchy  made  their  missionary  tour  in  the  south 
of  England  and  the  Isle  of  Wight,  while  Lady 
Glenorchy  awaited  the  Assembly's  decision  with 
regard  to  the  obnoxious  interdict  pronounced  by 
the  Synod,  Rowland  Hill  and  his  wife  were  to 

248 


ROWLAND   HILL   iMARRIES 

have  been  of  the  party.  But  his  engagements — his 
parish  of  Wotton  and  his  Surrey  Chapel,  together 
with  difficulties  in  connection  with  the  expenses 
of  the  expedition,  prevented  what  would  have  been 
a  great  gratification  to  the  brother  and  sister. 

Rowland  Hill's  marriage  to  his  married  sister's 
sister-in-law,  whose  brother,  the  member  for  Wells, 
had  proved  a  friend  in  need  to  Rowland  in  the 
matter  of  his  ordination,  had  necessarily  served, 
as  marriages  will,  to  separate  in  a  measure  the 
brother  and  sister.  But,  be3^ond  the  fact  of  the 
nearer  relation  coming  between  the  pair,  there  was 
nothing  to  find  fault  with  in  the  union.  The  bride, 
Mary  Tudway,  was  a  near  connection  of  the  family, 
and  her  portion  secured  greater  independence  for 
the  bridegroom. 

The  annual  income  of  his  first  parish,  Kingston, 
was  not  more  than  forty  pounds.  The  incomes 
from  his  next  parish,  Wotton,  and  his  London 
chapel  never  quite  paid  their  expenses.  Apart 
from  these  sources  of  living  he  had  his  allowance 
from  his  father  during  Sir  Rowland's  lifetime. 
Later  he  had  his  younger  son's  patrimony,  and 
on  the  death  of  his  eldest  brother— well  acquainted 
with  Rowland's  circumstances — he  succeeded  to  a 
mindfully  handsome  bequest. 

In  spite  of  foolish  gossip,  there  is  no  reason  to 
suppose  that  the  couple  were  not  well  suited  to 

249 


THE   COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

each  other.  Women  are,  as  a  rule,  more  con- 
ventional than  men,  and  it  is  possible  that  Row- 
land Hill's  absolute  unconventionality  sometimes 
grated  on  his  wife's  susceptibilities.  His  freedom 
of  speech  in  the  pulpit — Sheridan  characterised  it 
as  **  coming  red-hot  from  his  heart  " — which 
swayed  between  irresistibly  droll  illustrations, 
that  moved  his  hearers  not  merely  to  smile,  but  to 
the  laughter  echoing  strangely  within  consecrated 
walls,  and  passionately  pathetic  appeals  that 
swiftly  converted  the  laughter  into  tears — proved 
a  snare,  not  simply  to  the  preacher,  but  to  the 
imagination  and  the  invention  of  the  hstener. 

What  was  there  too  absurd  to  be  alleged  of  the 
clergyman  who  could  give  the  members  of  his 
congregation  in  anticipation  of  the  collection,  full 
liberty  to  thrust  their  hands  into  their  pockets  so 
long  as  they  did  not  pull  them  out  empty  ?  or  who 
could  propose  to  marshal  the  men  and  women  on 
the  same  occasion,  in  a  procession  to  the  church- 
door,  where  he  would  meet  them  ?  The  leaders  of 
the  procession  were  to  be  the  bestowers  of  bank- 
notes, the  next  in  order  the  givers  of  gold,  the 
third  detachment  was  to  consist  of  those  who 
had  only  silver  in  their  palms,  while  those  who 
had  brought  but  coppers  should  remain  to  the 
last. 

Yet    none    grieved    more    sincerely    than    did 

250 


HILL'S   SENSE   OF  THE   RIDICULOUS 

Rowland  Hill  at  the  incurable  sense  of  the  ridicu- 
lous which  beset  him  in  season  and  out  of  season, 
while  he  hotly  resented  the  incredible  story  that 
he  had  in  the  pulpit  mentioned  his  wife's  bonnet, 
and  held  it  up  to  pubhc  derision.  It  would  have 
been  unworthy  of  a  clergyman  and  a  gentleman,  he 
said ;  they  were  making  him  out  a  bear. 

It  is  sufficient  to  recall  that  on  many  of  his 
preaching  tours,  when  he  and  his  companions  were 
not  unhkely  to  be  received  with  insult  and  obloquy 
and  even  with  personal  risk,  Mrs.  Hill,  naturally 
a  timid,  punctilious  woman,  accompanied  him, 
and  that  after  sixty  years  of  wedlock  her  death 
filled  her  aged  partner  with  unfeigned  sorrow. 

In  one  striking  scene  Jane  Hill  participated  with 
her  brother  a  few  years  after  his  marriage,  and  it 
is  to  her  that  we  owe  the  graphic  description  of 
the  incidents.  It  was  on  the  occurrence  of  one 
of  the  earher  summer  anniversaries  of  the  founding 
of  Lady  Huntingdon's  College  of  Trevecca,  which 
she  made  a  point  of  attending  with  a  host  of 
preachers  and  visitors,  so  that  the  accommo- 
dation of  the  old  Welsh  Castle  was  taxed  to  the 
uttermost. 

The  ceremonies  commenced  on  the  eve  of  the 
anniversary  after  supper,  when  a  sermon  was 
preached  by  an  old  Welsh  clergyman  and  a 
Welsh   hymn  was  sung.     This  was   followed   by 

251 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

an  address  by  a  Trevecca  student  and  another 
sermon. 

Next  morning  at  six  the  great  programme  began 
by  another  Welsh  sermon,  and  by  sermons  both  in 
Welsh  and  EngHsh,  At  half-past  ten  again  a 
sermon  in  Welsh,  succeeded  by  sermons  in  Welsh 
and  English  preached  alternately  by  the  same 
clergyman. 

Then  Mr.  Toplady  gave  out  the  hymn — 

"  Blow  ye  the  trumpet,  blow," 

to  the  crowd  of  worshippers,  who  had  been  stand- 
ing there  since  six  o'clock  in  the  morning.  He  had 
hardly  begun  his  prayer,  which  followed,  when  the 
scaffolding  on  which  he  and  about  forty  ministers 
and  students  were  standing  fell  with  a  crash.  But 
almost  before  the  frightened  spectators  could  rush 
to  the  rescue  of  the  sufferers,  the  dauntless  voice 
of  the  speaker  rose  again,  telling  them  that  as 
"  nobody  was  materially  hurt  "  by  the  accident 
they  would  resume  the  service,  and  begin  it  by 
returning  thanks  toGod  who  had  given  His  angels 
charge  over  them,  and  the  sermon  was  preached, 
the  hymn  sung,  as  if  nothing  untoward  had 
happened. 

There  was  dinner  between  two  and  three,  after- 
wards a  Welsh  clergyman  preached  both  in  Welsh 
and  EngHsh,  and  in  succession  to  him  the  last 

252 


AUGUSTUS    MONTAGUE    TOI'LADV 


A   COLLEGE  ANNIVERSARY 

sermon  of  the  day  was  delivered  by  Mr.  Shirley, 
Lady  Huntingdon's  cousin,  and  the  brother  of 
the  miserable  Lord  Ferrers. 

It  has  been  remarked  that  the  healthy  Welsh 
appetite  for  spiritual  food  equals  their  robust 
reHsh  of  material  sustenance. 

On  the  evening  of  the  anniversary  an  even  more 
impressive  spectacle  was  presented  when  the 
Sacrament  was  administered,  with  addresses  in 
both  languages.  If  the  arrangement  had  any 
resemblance  to  other  celebrations  of  the  kind,  as 
was  likely,  the  accompaniments  of  the  Lord's 
Supper  would  be  long  remembered  by  the  witnesses. 
The  practice  was,  if  the  Sacrament  was  in  the  open 
air,  which  was  rendered  inevitable  when  large 
numbers  attended,  to  place  a  table  covered  with 
a  white  cloth  in  the  centre  of  any  natural  amphi- 
theatre. On  this  were  the  consecrated  bread  and 
wine.  The  officiating  clergyman  or  clergymen 
stood  on  a  platform  near  at  hand.  Around  the 
table  sat  the  men  communicants  on  the  turf. 
Behind  them  the  women  sat  on  benches,  and 
beyond  the  benches  stood  the  spectators. 

The  glow  of  the  setting  sun,  the  pale  beams  of  the 
rising  moon  (at  seasons  chosen  for  as  much  light 
as  could  be  had  for  the  dispersal  of  the  company), 
fell  in  succession  on  the  distant  mountains,  and  at 
Trevecca,  on   the   grey  and   grim   feudal   Castle 

253 


THE   COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

converted  by  one  woman's  piety  and  charity  into  a 
people's  college. 

The  solemn  words,  "  the  echo  of  the  spiritual 
songs  which  sounded  between  the  hills,  the  'evident 
tokens  of  the  Divine  Presence — the  holy  love  and 
harmony  which  prevailed,"  might  well  set  a  mark 
on  the  close  of  such  a  day  and  cause  it  to  stand 
apart  from  the  end  of  other  days  in  the  memories 
of  those  who  had  engaged  in  its  services. 

At  the  date  of  this  anniversary  at  Trevecca, 
Lady  Huntingdon  had  not  yet  been  compelled  to 
separate  from  the  Church  of  England,  and  all  the 
preachers  present,  who  spoke  in  turn  to  an  audience 
of  four  thousand,  belonged  to  that  denomination. 
Though  Rowland  Hill  was  among  the  clergy  he 
did  not  officiate.  He  had  greatly  admired  Lady 
Huntingdon  and  continued  to  the  last  grateful 
for  her  kindness  to  him  in  his  early  troubles — so 
much  so  that  he  would  never  speak  of  the  coolness 
which  had  arisen  on  her  side,  probably  from  a 
misunderstanding  of  some  of  the  pleasantries  in 
which  he  was  apt  to  indulge.  From  this  date, 
though  there  was  no  break  in  her  friendship  with 
Miss  Hill,  and  though  with  Lady  Huntingdon's 
customary  generosity  she  subscribed  to  his  Surrey 
chapel  and  expressed  her  gratification  at  his 
success,  she  would  no  longer  have  him  to  preach 
in  her  chapels.     Even  in  that  day  of  triumph  there 

254 


SIR    RICHARD    HILL 

must  have  been  a  pang  to  the  faithful  sister  in  the 
exclusion  of  the  beloved  brother  from  what  seemed 
his  right — a  prominent  place  among  the  officiating 
clergy. 

Lady  Hill  of  Hawkestone  died  about  the  time  of 
her  son  Rowland's  marriage.  Her  husband,  Sir 
Rowland,  survived  her  ten  years,  and  in  the  inter- 
val he  married  again.  There  is  no  mention  of  what 
part  the  second  wife,  who  had  been  a  widow,  took 
in  the  contention  between  her  step-children  and 
their  father,  though  apparently  one  of  her  kindred 
was  an  ally  of  the  Rev.  Rowland's  allies.  Judging 
from  ordinary  precedents,  the  advent  of  a  stranger 
in  the  family  circle  was  calculated  to  render  Jane's 
position  still  more  difficult. 

But  with  the  succession  of  Sir  Richard  Hill  the 
whole  aspect  of  affairs  altered.  He  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  avow  his  sympathy  with  the  Methodists, 
and  his  house  became  their  rallying- ground.  His 
reference  in  the  House  of  Commons  to  "  a  nowa- 
days obsolete  book  called  the  Bible,"  was  an  asser- 
tion of  his  own  allegiance,  couched  in  the  caustic 
wit  of  which  Rowland  did  not  hold  a  monopoly 
in  the  family. 

When  people  argue  from  the  text  of  the  healthy 
constitutions  and  habits  of  their  grandmothers  and 
great-grandmothers,  a  reservation  must  be  made 
and  a  recognition  allowed  of  the  survival  of  the 

255 


THE   COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

fittest.  The  sedentary  lives  of  the  period — the 
tendency  on  the  part  of  some  to  brooding  in- 
trospection and  austere  self-denial — had  another 
side  to  show,  and  a  contradiction  to  that  which 
is  popularly  realised.  Of  the  Methodist  ladies 
here  chronicled,  only  Grace  Murray  seems  to  have 
enjoyed  good  health,  and  only  two  of  them — she 
and  Lady  Huntingdon — attained  old  age,  Darcy 
Lady  Maxwell  just  approached  it.  Miss  Hill  and 
Lady  Glenorchy  died  not  long  past  their  prime. 
Miss  Hill  soon  after  Lady  Glenorchy. 

Sir  John  Hill,  who  succeeded  his  childless  brother 
Sir  Richard  in  1808,  made  the  old  house  ring  again 
with  young  steps  and  voices.  He  was  the  father 
of  twelve  children.  Five  of  his  sons,  in  place  of 
serving  in  the  Church  miUtant  like  their  three 
uncles,  entered  the  regular  Army,  fought  through 
the  Peninsular  War,  and  were  all  present  at  the 
Battle  of  Waterloo,  out  of  which  they  came 
without  serious  injury.  What  would  Jane  Hill 
have  thought  of  the  soldier  hero  in  the  band  of 
nephews — Rowland  Lord  Hill  ?  How  would  she 
have  regarded  the  transparency  set  on  the  occasion 
of  a  great  illumination  in  the  front  of  Surrey 
Chapel,  bearing  the  words  "  The  Tyrant  has  fallen  " 
and  the  warrant  of  two  verses  of  Scripture  to  ex- 
plain the  allegory  of  the  sun  setting  over  the  sea 
and  on  the    shore,  at  one   side  a  fortress   with 

256 


DARCY   LADY   MAXWELL 

weapons  of  war,  and  at  the  other  side  a  lamb  lying 
by  implements  of  agriculture  ? 

Of  this  at  least  we  may  be  certain,  that  if  she 
had  been  present  hke  her  younger  brother  on  the 
great  day  when  the  grateful  city  of  London  pre- 
sented a  sword  of  honour  to  her  gallant  nephew 
and  the  cheering  crowd  spared  a  huzza  for  "  his 
good  old  uncle,"  she  would  have  echoed  that 
shout  in  the  depth  of  her  heart.  For  what  phy- 
sical courage  in  Rowland  the  soldier  could  match 
the  moral  courage  of  Rowland  the  preacher  when 
as  a  lad  he  faced  the  sneers  and  jeers  of  his  Uni- 
versity and  only  the  shoeblack  at  his  college  gate 
smiled  back  at  him,  when  as  a  young  man  he 
wandered  from  village  to  village,  and  from  town 
to  town,  telHng  the  tale  of  the  tidings  of  great  joy 
to  all  mankind,  and  was  answered  by  the  squaUd 
artillery  of  curses  and  brickbats  ? 

Darcy  Lady  Maxwell  of  Pollok  was  the 
daughter  of  an  Ayrshire  laird,  Brisbane  of 
Brisbane,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Largs.  There 
had  .been  Brisbanes  of  that  ilk  as  far  back  as  the 
fourteenth  century. 

Darcy  Brisbane  had  been  born  as  nearly  as  could 
be  traced,  since  there  had  been  carelessness  and 
destruction  of  the  parish  register,  in  1742.  She 
grew  up  a  bright,  high-spirited  girl — in  looks,  her 
biographer  tells  us  in  strong  but  vexatiously  vague 

257 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

terms,  she  was  "  made  in  Nature's  finest  mould." 
Her  parents  were  members  of  the  Church  of 
Scotland,  in  whose  tenets  she  was  brought  up, 
while  her  education  was  completed  in  the  fashion 
of  girls  of  her  class  in  her  day  at  a  boarding-school 
in  Edinburgh. 

She  came  out  in  her  world  betimes,  for  she  was 
not  more  than  sixteen  when  she  went  to  London 
to  be  presented  at  Court  by  her  aunt,  the  Mar- 
chioness of  Lothian,  and  to  have  a  brief  expe- 
rience of  the  great  world.  The  death  of  her  aunt 
brought  her  visit  to  an  abrupt  conclusion. 

But  she  returned  to  Scotland  only  to  plunge 
into  new  interests  and  excitements,  for  in  the  course 
of  another  year,  in  1759,  the  girl  of  seventeen  was 
married  to  Sir  Walter  Maxwell  of  Pollok.  The 
Maxwells  of  Pollok  belonged  like  Maxwell  of 
Preston,  Lady  Glenorchy's  father,  to  branches  of 
the  great  Nithsdale  house,  so  that,  through  Lady 
Maxwell's  husband,  there  was  a  distant  connection 
between  Lady  Glenorchy  and  Lady  Maxwell, 
while  there  was  only  a  year's  difference  in  their  age. 
Lady  Glenorchy  being  the  senior. 

For  the  happiness  of  Lady  Maxwell's  marriage, 
and  for  her  delight  in  the  child  born  to  her  within 
the  next  two  years,  we  have  the  pathetic  reference 
in  her  own  words,  which  as  a  rule  were  few  :  "  The 
Lord  gave  me  all  I  desired  in  this  world  "  (alas ! 

258 


LADY   MAXWELL'S   TRIALS 

the  sentence  is  not  finished,  it  goes  on),  "  and  then 
took  them  all  away  "  (still  there  is  a  blessed  con- 
clusion to  the  whole  matter),  "  but  immediately 
afterwards  sweetly  drew  me  to  Himself."  Even 
for  the  loss  of  husband  and  child  God  could  com- 
pensate. Was  the  gift  of  her  Maker  not  better 
than  ten  husbands  or  ten  children  ? 

In  1761  Sir  Walter  Maxwell  died,  and  so  ternble 
was  that  first  blow  that  Lady  Maxwell's  health 
never  altogether  recovered  from  the  effects.  She 
had  been  full  of  hfe  till  then,  but  from  that  date, 
though  she  made  Uttle  of  her  ailments,  her  health 
was  uncertain,  and  while  still  in  her  early  prime 
she  remained  Hable  to  sharp,  disabhng  attacks  of 
illness. 

Six  weeks  after  the  first  blow,  the  second  stroke 
fell.  Her  child  was  accidentally  killed.  She  had 
not  even  the  comfort  of  nursing  him  through  a 
young  child's  pathetic  illness,  of  seeing  him 
gradually  fade,  so  as  to  be  brought  by  degrees  to 
face  the  grievous  fact  of  his  death,  and  of  having 
him  die  in  her  arms.  The  melancholy  news  was 
brought  to  her  with  a  stunning  shock. 

She  sat  in  awful  silence  for  a  moment  and  then 
cried  out :  "I  see  that  God  requires  my  whole 
heart,  and  He  shall  have  it."  It  was  the  reverse 
of  the  infidel  sentiment  of  Job's  wife  :  "  Curse  God 
and  die."     It  was  nearer  the  passionate  loyalty  of 

259 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

the  sorely  tried  believer  when  he  protested : 
"  Though  He  should  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in 
Him." 

That  the  childless  girl- widow— who  never  after 
husband  and  child  were  laid  to  rest  breathed  their 
names  unless  in  her  inmost  soul,  never  gave  a  detail 
of  the  spiritual  conversion  to  which  she  believed 
their  deaths  led,  because  it  was  part  of  that  terrible 
time — fully  realised  that  the  empty  places  would 
not  be  refilled  on  this  side  the  grave  is  evident 
from  a  line  quoted  in  her  diary  long  after- 
wards: "  Fate,  drop  the  curtain  ;  I  can  lose  no 
more." 

Anyone  who  has  watched  the  effect  on  men's 
minds  of  such  domestic  tragedies  as  the  two  which 
had  befallen  Lady  Maxwell  will  have  no  difficulty 
in  believing  that,  even  retiring  from  the  world  as 
she  did,  becoming  what  worldly  men  would  consider 
a  fanatic  in  one  of  the  Methodist  forms  of  religion — 
devoting  the  greater  portion  of  her  afiluence, 
which  was  not  wealth,  only  easy  circumstances 
for  her  station,  to  works  of  charity  and  piety — she 
was  nevertheless  troubled  by  various  offers  of 
marriage  from  men,  some  of  them  considerably 
above  her  in  rank. 

That  these  aristocratic  suitors  did  not  hold  her 
religious  opinions  is  implied  by  her  biographer's 
reflection    that    the    inadvisability    of    Christian 

260 


LADY   MAXWELL   IN   EDINBURGH 

women  yoking  themselves  with  unbelievers  was 
probably  one  of  the  deterrents  to  her  lending  an 
ear  to  the  gentlemen's  flattering  addresses.  Only 
on  one  occasion  did  she  hesitate,  we  are  told,  and 
that  for  the  briefest  season. 

We  can  understand  also  that  moment  of  heart- 
sinking  loneliness  which  assailed  the  young  be- 
reaved woman,  though  we  are  a  little  puzzled  to 
know  by  what  channels  such  private  information 
reached  her  biographer.  Certainly  it  was  not 
from  her  own  self-respecting  lips,  so  sealed  on  all 
which  deeply  concerned  her. 

On  her  widowhood  Lady  Maxwell  came  to  Edin- 
burgh, taking  a  house  there,  and  in  or  near  Edin- 
burgh she  spent  the  rest  of  her  Hfe  with  short 
exceptions.  Her  house  was  in  Princes  Street,  not 
then  a  busy  thoroughfare  given  over  to  shops, 
offices  and  hotels,  but  one  of  the  new  streets  of  the 
new  town.  It  had  been  named  for  the  two  elder 
sons  of  the  Royal  house  on  the  occasion  of  a  visit 
they  paid  to  the  Scotch  capital.  It  was  built  on 
what  had  been  the  Burgh  Muir,  and  looked  across 
the  recently  drained  Nor'  Loch  to  the  high 
"  Lands  "  of  the  old  town,  crowned  by  the  Castle 
on  its  beetling  rock,  a  wonderfully  picturesque 
view. 

When  Lady  Maxwell  turned  in  her  desolation  to 
the  sole  consolation  which  was  left  to  her,  she 

261 

.S-(23cr.) 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

received  a  vivid  and  lasting  impression  of  Wes- 
leyanism  (then  much  talked  of  in  Scotland  for  the 
effects  it  was  producing  in  England).  It  was  the 
organisation  which  appealed  to  her  as  the  fittest 
expression  of  the  will  of  the  Divine  Founder  of 
Christianity.  It  does  not  seem  likely  that  she 
had  any  personal  introduction  to  John  Wesley 
before  1764 — later  they  were  on  intimate  terms, 
and  corresponded  regularly.  In  1764,  when  Lady 
Maxwell  was  in  her  twenty-third  year,  John 
Wesley  paid  his  most  memorable  visit  to  Edin- 
burgh, where  he  was  welcomed  by  some  of  the  most 
liberal  and  evangelical  of  the  Scotch  ministers,  of 
whom  Lady  Maxwell's  minister.  Dr.  Webster,  was 
one.  Wesley  preached  to  large  crowds  on  the 
Calton  Hill  and  in  the  yard  of  the  High  School. 
In  each  instance  the  distinguished  figure  and  face  of 
the  young  widow  in  her  sombre  weeds  was  surely 
to  be  seen  standing  or  sitting  on  one  of  the 
seats  provided  for  the  old  or  the  ailing  in  the 
congregation. 

Though  Wesley's  system  and  doctrines  made 
comparatively  little  mark  in  Scotland,  where  other 
reformers  had  long  before  preceded  him  and  sown 
seed  which  had  yielded  fruit  for  generations  and 
was  to  sprout  afresh  and  bear  its  testimony  for 
generations  yet  to  come;  and  though  Whitefield, 
as  coming  so  much  nearer  to  the  creed  of  the  Scotch 

262 


LADY  MAXWELL  ADOPTS  WESLEY ANISM 

reformers,  was  decidedly  preferred  to  Wesley,  yet 
Wesley's  Society,  which  Lady  Maxwell  immediately 
joined,  had  its  adherents.  Several  Wesleyan 
chapels  were  opened  in  different  quarters  of 
the  city,  the  ministers  receiving  in  their  own 
denomination  the  distinctive  title  of  Preachers. 

Lady  Maxwell  continued  for  the  rest  of  her  life 
an  attached  and  faithful  W^esleyan,  which  did  not 
prevent  her  from  maintaining  a  sincere  friendship 
with  her  large-hearted  parish  minister,  who  felt 
no  scruple  in  accompanying  her  on  various 
evenings  to  the  services  in  her  chapel. 

When  Lady  Glenorchy  and  Lady  Maxwell  first 
met,  whether  as  girls  at  their  respective  boarding- 
schools,  whether  after  both  had  borne  the  yoke  of 
sorrow  and  care  in  their  youth  and  had  taken  up 
that  other  yoke  which  was  light  by  comparison, 
there  is  no  evidence  to  tell.  But  it  seems  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world  that,  even  without  that 
slight  tie  of  blood  between  the  Maxwells  of  Pollok 
and  the  Maxwells  of  Preston,  Lady  Glenorchy  in 
Holyrood  Palace,  and  Lady  Maxwell  in  her  house 
in  Princes'  Street  should  have  been  chief  friends — 
"  friends  in  the  Lord "  they  would  have  called 
themselves.  They  attended  together  those  weekly 
meetings  of  "  honourable  women  "  over  which  Mr. 
Robert  Walker  of  the  High  Church  worthily  pre- 
sided, they  planned,  side  by  side,  that  unfortunate 

263 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

Niddry  Wynd  chapel,  which  was  to  have  united 
the  different  Christian  sects  in  a  holy  brother- 
hood, but  was  destined  to  be  such  a  bone  of 
contention  as  its  projectors  had  never  dreamt 
of. 

The  friendship  stretched  beyond  the  hfe 
of  one  of  the  friends  in  accordance  with  the 
resolution  by  which  Lady  Glenorchy  appointed 
her  contemporary  her  executrix. 

The  sign  of  the  wisdom  of  the  choice  was  found 
in  the  absolute  conscientiousness,  in  the  unweary- 
ing fidelity  with  which  for  the  twenty  years  during 
which  Lady  Maxwell  survived  Lady  Glenorchy 
she  took  upon  her  the  burden  of  the  other's  good 
works— not  even  getting  credit  for  the  gratuitous 
service.  She  strove  with  advancing  years  and 
abated  strength  to  promote  their  usefulness,  to 
defend  them  from  abuse,  and  to  bring  to  an  end 
the  lawyer's  irksome  arguments  as  to  the  value  of 
conflicting  codicils  of  conflicting  wills  which  caused 
much  delay  and  doubled  the  drudgery  involved 
in  the  vested  authority. 

If  anything  were  needed  to  bind  still  more 
indissolubly  the  union  between  kindred  spirits, 
the  one  forming  the  complement  of  the  other,  it 
was  the  friend  in  common  younger  than  either, 
young  enough  to  be  entitled  Lady  Maxwell's 
adopted  daughter  and  to  be  constantly  addressed 

264 


DEATH  OF  LADY  HENRIETTA  HOPE 

by  her  as  her  "dear  daughter,"  "her  daughter 
in  the  Lord."  Yet  this  youngest  of  the  three,  the 
adopted  daughter,  Lady  Henrietta  Hope,  was  so 
gifted  with  sense  and  sweetness,  so  beloved  in  her 
own  family  as  by  those  other  friends,  that  she  was 
lit  to  be  their  fellow-worker,  in  some  respects  their 
stay  no  less  than  their  pupil. 

The  near  neighbourhood  of  her  father's  seat  of 
Hopetoun  to  Edinburgh  and  to  the  country-houses 
where  Lady  Maxwell  sometimes  went  for  the 
benefit  of  her  health  made  Lady  Henrietta  an 
especially  available  as  well  as  a  very  dear  com- 
panion to  Lady  Maxwell.  Notwithstanding  this, 
though  she  might  have  counted  on  her  young 
friend  as  likely  to  be  the  solace  of  her  age,  she  gave 
her  up  without  a  grudge  to  Lady  Glenorchy,  when 
it  was  arranged  on  Lord  Hopetoun' s  death  that  the 
two  should  make  their  home  together. 

It  was  left  for  Lady  Maxwell  to  endure  the  pang 
of  parting  when  the  pair  went  on  their  last  journey 
to  England,  to  hear  of  the  rapidly  declining  health 
of  Lady  Henrietta,  while  her  own  health  was  too 
broken  and  the  season  of  the  year — autumn — too 
far  advanced  for  her  to  venture  on  taking  the 
journey  to  Bristol.  When  the  tidings  of  her 
"daughter's"  death  reached  Lady  Maxwell  at  the 
country-house  near  Edinburgh,  it  was  a  token  of 
the  severity  of  the  loss  she  had  experienced  that, 

265 


THE   COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

as  with  the  losses  of  her  early  youth,  she  could  not 
bring  herself  to  speak  of  it.  Even  the  diary  which 
she  kept  as  punctually  as  Lady  Glenorchy  wrote 
in  hers — a  practice  which  Lady  Maxwell  had 
pressed  Lady  Henrietta  to  adopt — lay  unopened, 
with  its  pages  blank,  for  weeks  after  this  latest 
blow. 

But  if  Lady  Maxwell  led  a  retired  life  it  was  not, 
strictly  speaking,  solitary,  any  more  than  it  was 
idle.  She  had  often  relatives,  a  sister  or  a  niece, 
staying  under  her  roof,  and  she  was  not  without 
a  congenial,  if  a  limited  circle  of  friends.  She  was 
too  much  occupied  and  too  much  in  earnest  to  care 
for  mere  acquaintances,  but  if  anyone  had  the 
slightest  claim  on  her,  if  he  or  she  were  in  sickness 
or  sorrow.  Lady  Maxwell  was  ready  to  hasten  to 
their  aid. 

There  are  some  touching  passages  in  her  letters 
with  reference  to  a  Mrs.  Hunter — who  had  lost  an 
infant  child — whom  Lady  Maxwell  tenderly  com- 
miserated. She  alludes  to  the  baby  as  one  whom 
she  had  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  taking  in  her  arms 
and  blessing,  little  thinking  how  short  its  span  of 
life  was  to  be.  Did  she  see  in  it  her  own  little 
child  so  soon  and  under  such  sad  circumstances 
taken  from  her  ? 

Her  great  source  of  pleasure  was  in  a  gathering 
at  her  house  every  Thursday,  when  all  the  Preachers 

266 


A   DAY   IN   LADY   MAXWELL'S   LIFE 

(Wesleyan)  in  town,  met  together,  and  formed  a 
class  in  which  she,  above  all  others,  held  high 
communion. 

One  is  reminded  somehow  of  a  similar  yet  widely 
removed  meeting  for  worship  and  spiritual 
improvement  in  Charles  Simeon's  rooms  at 
Cambridge. 

Lady  Maxwell's  biographer  has  supplied  us 
with  an  example  of  how  her  days  were  spent.  In 
her  earher  years  she  rose  as  soon  as  four  o'clock  in 
order  to  attend  the  morning  service  at  the  nearest 
Wesleyan  Chapel  at  five  o'clock.  On  her  return 
she  continued  in  her  private  devotions  until  her 
breakfast  hour,  which  was  seven.  After  breakfast 
she  fulfilled  the  duties  of  the  mistress  of  a  household 
— always  onerous  even  when  the  household  is  small 
to  a  mistress  who  holds  herself  responsible  for  the 
well-being  of  every  member. 

She  had  a  good  deal  of  writing  to  do  in  connection 
with  her  own  church-membership  and  her  charities, 
and  when  she  accepted  Lady  Glenorchy's  legacy — 
the  care  of  her  chapels  and  schools,  and  the  dis- 
pensing of  the  funds  in  connection  with  them — 
the  work  became  so  heavy  that  Lady  Maxwell  had 
to  keep  a  private  secretary. 

From  eleven  to  twelve  she  withdrew  to  her 
place  of  privacy,  and  spent  an  hour  in  prayer  and 
meditation.     Later,  she  took  exercise  and  visited 

267 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

her  friends  and  her  poor.  There  were  periods,  if 
possible,  of  retirement  for  communion  with  the 
unseen  world,  before  and  again  after  dinner.  In 
the  evening  she  read — mostly  Divinity.  After  an 
early,  light  supper,  her  household  met  for  a  short 
service  before  going  to  bed. 

On  Sunday  she  went  to  the  Wesleyan  Chapel  in 
the  morning  and  evening,  and  to  the  Parish  Church 
in  the  interval.  Unlike  Lady  Glenorchy  she  could 
criticise  a  sermon,  and  had  not  only  a  quick 
appreciation  of  its  merits,  but  a  keen  sense  of 
its  demerits. 

On  Monday  evening  she  was  rarely  absent  from 
her  chapeFs  prayer-meeting,  and  she  attended  the 
Band  meeting  where  she  always  spoke  ;  she  did  so 
also  at  the  love-feasts  with  great  freedom  and 
impressiveness. 

Again,  unlike  Lady  Glenorchy,  Lady  Maxwell 
could  give  a  pubHc  address  with  readiness  and  ease, 
as  well  as  with  sincerity  and  power.  She  did  not 
seem  to  make  allowance  in  such  circumstances  for 
varieties  of  temperament  and  talents,  since  she 
appears  to  have  attributed  her  friend's  shyness 
and  dumbness  to  false  modesty,  reluctance  to 
make  an  effort,  and  want  of  habit,  rather  than  to 
a  lack  of  a  special  gift,  else  there  would  not  have 
been  the  sorrowful  entry  in  Lady  Glenorchy' s 
diary  that  Lady  Maxwell  had  asked  her  to  pray 

268 


LADY   MAXWELL'S   CHARACTER 

with  her,  which  she  could  not  do,  and  so  was  filled 
with  distress  and  shame. 

Friday  was  a  day  of  special  fasting  and  prayer,  a 
retrospect  day  in  which  she  revised  her  doings  and 
her  spiritual  experience  for  the  week. 

In  preparation  for  the  Une  of  conduct  which  she 
carefully  observed.  Lady  Maxwell  drew  up  a 
covenant  between  herself  and  her  God.  It  was 
duly  dated  and  signed  "  Darcy  Maxwell."  Doubt- 
less there  have  been  multitudes  of  such  covenants 
between  individual  Christians  and  their  Maker, 
though  one  hears  and  sees  less  of  them  than  of 
national  and  church  leagues  and  covenants. 

In  Darcy  Maxwell's  covenant  she  craved  no 
temporal  blessing,  neither  health,  nor  wealth,  nor 
worldly  honours,  for  herself  or  those  who  were 
dear  to  her,  and  while  she  prayed  to  God  to  do  His 
part,  it  was  by  giving  her  the  faith,  courage 
and  steadfastness  without  which  it  would  be 
impossible  for  her  to  fulfil  her  share  of  the 
contract. 

Lady  Maxwell  was  a  woman  of  altogether 
stronger  mental  physique  than  Lady  Glenorchy, 
while  she  was  not  less  unworldly  nor  less  devoted. 
Her  faith  was  more  assured,  her  peace  more  perfect, 
though  her  diary  bears  witness  of  what  she  con- 
sidered conflicts  with  sin  and  Satan,  and  she 
continually  craved  more  complete  salvation,  yet 

269 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

she  was  convinced  of  her  justification,  even  of  her 
sanctitication. 

Lady  Maxwell,  from  her  not  too  large  income,  in 
addition  to  the  deduction  from  her  capital  of  that 
free  gift  of  eight  hundred  pounds  to  remove  the 
debt  from  John  Wesley's  schools,  started,  main- 
tained and  endowed  a  charity  school  in  Edinburgh, 
which,  according  to  a  computation  made  before 
her  death,  had  sent  into  the  world  eight  hundred 
trained  scholars.  She  also  opened  two  of  the 
earliest  Scotch  Sunday  Schools,  one  in  the  capital 
and  another  at  some  distance  in  the  country. 

These  and  her  other  charities  could  only  have 
been  carried  out  by  strict  self-denial.  For  instance, 
not  only  in  town,  but  in  the  country,-  at  Saughton 
Hall  and  at  Coates,  she  kept  no  carriage  when,  in 
the  dehcate  state  of  her  health,  to  be  reduced  to 
walking  for  her  only  exercise  must  have  made 
her  almost  a  prisoner  to  the  gardens  and  grounds 
of  the  houses.  Neither  were  these  private  grounds 
likely  to  have  been  choice  or  extensive,  when  the 
accommodation  of  one  of  the  houses  (Saughton 
Hall)  was  so  restricted,  even  for  Lady  Maxwell's 
small  requirements,  that  she  mentions  on  one  occa- 
sion, as  an  obstacle  to  her  repairing  to  the  country- 
house,  that  a  dying  young  woman  was  there. 
Apparently  the  best  guest-chamber  was  given  up 
to  the  invalid,   and  Lady  Maxwell  proceeds  to 

270 


THE   HOPE  CHAPEL 

speculate  whether  she  could  get  another  bedroom 
or  another  bed  in  the  same  room. 

In  discharge  of  her  office  as  Lady  Glenorchy's 
executrix,  to  which  she  gave  much  thought  and 
trouble,  in  1749,  three  years  after  the  death  of  her 
two  friends  had  touched  her  nearly,  she  went  to 
England  and  Bristol  on  business  connected  with 
the  Hope  Chapel.  She  had  not  crossed  the  border 
since  the  giriish  flight  to  be  presented  at  Court, 
and  get  a  glimpse  of  the  great  world.  It  was  a 
different  errand  which  took  her  a  grave,  middle- 
aged  woman  to  the  scene  of  her  adopted  daughter's 
last  sufferings  and  death  to  do  her  best  for  that 
monument  to  friendship,  humanity  and  religion 
which  had  been  Lady  Henrietta  Hope's  last 
concern. 

It  is  said  with  evident  truth  that  Lady  Maxwell 
dreaded  the  opening  afresh  of  a  wound  which 
time's  merciful  work  had  served  to  close,  with 
the  revival  of  emotions  which,  brave  as  she  was, 
she  shrank  from  encountering.  But  when  the 
cause  was  one  of  duty,  and  of  the  dead  friend's 
heart's  desire,  there  could  be  no  question  whether 
the  performance  should  or  should  not  be 
accompHshed. 

In  the  following  year  the  untravelled,  untravel- 
ling  woman  was  again  at  Bristol,  and  in  1791  she 
took  a  third  journey  south,  when  she  inspected 

271 


THE   COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

the  meeting-houses  at  CarUsle  and  Worthington, 
but  of  all  the  institutions  in  her  care  the  Hope 
Chapel  was  nearest  her  heart.  It  was  also  the 
most  troublesome  obligation,  from  unexpected 
contradictions  and  difficulties. 

As  time  passed  and  premature  infirmity  crept 
on,  Lady  Maxwell  modified  a  little  the  severe 
disciphne  to  which  she  had  accustomed  herself — 
rose  at  six  in  the  morning  instead  of  four,  break- 
fasted at  eight  instead  of  seven,  attended  only  the 
morning  diet  of  worship  on  Sunday.  But  her 
health  slowly  and  surely  declined  until  entire  loss 
of  appetite  sapped  what  strength  remained  to  her. 
On  the  second  of  July,  1810,  at  the  age  of  sixty- 
eight,  content  and  at  peace,  she  departed  from 
this  hfe,  her  spirit  committed  to  God's  hands,  and 
if  it  were  His  will  permitted  in  the  restitution  of 
all  things  to  find  once  more  the  lost  darlings  of 
her  youth. 


272 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

Frequent  Administration  of  the  Sacrament  Introduced  in  Lady 
Glcnorchy's  Church — Her  Visits  to  England — Death  of  Lord 
Hopetoun — Lady  Henrietta  Hope's  Home  with  Lady  Glenorchy — 
Opening  of  a  Meeting-house  at  Carlisle — Last  Visit  to  Taymouth — 
Lord  Breadalbane's  Death  at  Holyrood — Lady  Glenorchy  at 
Barnton — Declining  Health — At  Moffat,  where  Visitors  Drank 
Goat's  Whey  as  well  as  Mineral  Water — Her  Work  among  the 
Sick  Poor — Breakdown  of  Lady  Glenorchy 's  Carriage  at  Matlock 
and  Founding  of  a  Chapel  there — Last  Visit  to  the  Hills — Return 
to  Edinburgh — Life  Despaired  of — A  Rally  and  a  Final  Stay  at 
Barnton — At  Matlock  with  Lady  Henrietta  Hope  in  1785 — Resort 
to  Bristol  to  try  the  Hot  Springs — Death  of  Lady  Henrietta  Hope 
at  Bristol  on  New  Year's  Day,  1786 — Her  Request  to  Found  a 
Chapel  at  Bristol  carried  out  by  Lady  Glenorchy — The  Chapel 
named  the  Hope  Chapel  as  a  Memorial  of  a  Faithful  Friendship — 
One  more  Visit  to  her  Chapels  at  Exmouth,  Matlock  and  Carlisle, 
with  the  last  Chapel  she  Established  at  Workington — Barnton  Sold 
— Lady  Glenorchy  with  her  Aunt,  Miss  Hairstanes,  in  the  Countess 
of  Sutherland's  House  in  George  Square — Interview  with  Mr.  Jones 
— Brief  Illness — Her  Remark  to  herself,  "  If  this  be  dying,  it  is  the 
pleasantest  thing  imaginable  " — Her  Death  on  the  17th  of  July, 
1786,  in  her  forty-fifth  year — Buried  in  an  Excavation  of  the  Rock 
on  which  her  Church  waus  built,  her  head  resting  under  the 
Communion  Table. 

So  complete  was  Lady  Glenorchy' s  reconciliation 
with  the  Presbytery  that  in  the  course  of  a  year 
or  two  she  and  her  pastor,  Mr.  Jones,  ventured 
without  reproof  or  check  of  any  kind,  on  an 
innovation  which  has  become  general  in  town 
churches  in  Scotland. 

The  Sacrament  was  formerly  administered  at 
most  twice  a  year,  preceded  by  a  fast-day  on 
the  Thursday  before  the  Sacrament  Sunday, 
with  service  and  a  sermon  on  Saturday  and  a 
thanksgiving  sermon  and  prayers  on  Monday. 

Lady  Glenorchy  and  Mr.  Jones  established  on 

273 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

their  own  responsibility  the  giving  of  the  Sacrament 
every  second  month  with  evening  services  on  the 
preceding  Saturday  and  succeeding  Monday,  but 
without  the  Thursday  fast- day,  and  the  longer 
services  on  Saturday  and  Monday,  except  twice 
a  year  in  conformity  with  the  practice  of  the 
neighbouring  churches  of  the  city. 

After  her  usual  visits  to  Taymouth  and  Barnton 
Lady  Glenorchy  went  again  to  England,  accom- 
panied by  Lady  Henrietta  Hope.  Not  long  after 
their  arrival  in  London  Lady  Glenorchy  became 
so  alarmingly  ill  that  one  of  the  first  physicians  of 
the  time  was  called  in.  He  declared  her  illness  to 
be  gout  in  the  head  and  stomach,  from  which  it 
is  said  she  was  never  again  altogether  free. 

But  she  was  able  to  go  on  to  Exmouth,  where 
she  was  rejoiced  to  find  her  improvised  chapel 
prospering.  Next  she  visited  the  Holmes  near 
Exeter.  She  sought  the  mineral  waters  at  Bath. 
She  saw  her  friends  at  Hawkestone  and  returned 
north  by  the  Yorkshire  watering-place  of  Buxton. 

In  the  winter  of  1780  she  was  agcdn  at  Bath  on 
account  of  her  health.  During  her  stay  she  joined 
in  the  worship  at  Lady  Huntingdon's  Chapel,  and 
after  a  scruple,  which  she  overcame,  took  the 
Communion. 

About  this  time  Lord  Hopetoun  died,  and  by  a 
happy  arrangement  for  Lady  Glenorchy  in  her 

274 


TWO   FRIENDS 

solitude,  when  she  was  not  with  Lord  Breadalbane 
at  Taymouth  or  Holyrood,  Lady  Henrietta  Hope 
came  to  stay  with  her.  The  two  ladies  were  dear 
friends,  one  of  the  least  of  the  things  which  they 
had  in  common  being  the  delicate  health  of  both. 

Lady  Henrietta  joined  Lady  Glenorchy  at 
Buxton,  and  on  the  homeward  route  they  stopped 
at  Carhsle.  It  was  just  thirty-six  years  since 
"  Bonnie  Prince  Charlie  "  and  his  army  passed 
through  "  Merry  Carlisle  "  in  the  exuberant  joy 
of  their  early  successes  on  their  way  to  win  a  triple 
crown.  After  their  retreat  from  Derby  and  the 
defeat  of  Preston,  the  routed  forces  came  the  same 
way,  a  dispirited,  disordered  throng.  A  little  later 
Carhsle  "  Yetts  "  presented  the  gruesome  spectacle 
of  the  spiked  heads  of  some  of  the  leaders  of  the 
rebels. 

There  were  those  among  the  descendants  of 
these  rebels  who  remembered  the  executions  at 
Carlisle  so  long  and  so  passionately  that  for  more 
than  a  hundred  years  no  member  of  the  family 
whose  ancestor  had  suffered  there  in  the  "'45" 
would  journey  through  the  ill-omened  town  on 
their  way  to  England  ;  they  made  a  considerable 
detour  in  order  to  avoid  the  place. 

If  in  Lady  Glenorchy's  day  any  mouldering 
traces  yet  lingered  of  the  unhappy  fate  of  her 
countrymen  who  had  fought  in  the  same  desperate 

275 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

cause  with  the  Nithsdale  Maxwells,  it  was  not  of 
them  she  thought.  No  particle  of  bitterness,  not 
the  most  distant  vain  dream  of  retaliation  and 
vengeance  was  in  that  spirit  full  of  love  and  charity 
which  mourned  only  over  the  decay  of  rehgion  in 
Carhsle,  and  finding  a  deserted,  shut- up  Presby- 
terian meeting-house,  set  about  the  purchase, 
provided  a  minister,  and  aided  an  awakened 
congregation  in  supplying  him  with  a  salary. 

This  year  Lady  Glenorchy  paid  her  last  visit  to 
Taymouth.  For  twenty  years  she  had  hardly  ever 
failed  to  spend  her  late  summers  and  autumns 
there,  with  its  venerable  owner.  She  loved  its 
retirement  if  not  its  state,  and  if  its  grand  land- 
scape did  not  impress  her,  it  was  full  to  her  of  such 
sweet,  sad,  sacred  associations  as  made  it  heaven's 
own  vestibule. 

Her  connection  with  the  Palace  at  Holyrood, 
where  in  Lord  Breadalbane's  apartments  she  had 
passed  many  winters,  was  also  about  to  end,  for 
Lord  Breadalbane  died  there  suddenly  towards 
the  close  of  January,  1782.  It  was  a  comfort  to 
her  that  she  was  with  him  at  the  last.  He  died 
on  a  Saturday,  and  she,  having  heard  of  his  shght 
attack  of  illness,  had  come  in  from  Barnton  on 
Thursday  to  attend  upon  him,  and  saw  him  pleased 
and  happy  in  having  her  about  him.  Only  ten 
minutes  before  his  death  his  doctor  said  he  was 

276 


LORD   BREADALBANE 

much  better,  and  that  he  would  probably  be  up 
in  his  chair  in  a  few  days.  But  his  resting-place 
was  to  be  in  far  away  lone  Finlarig,  with  his 
children  and  his  ancestors. 

It  goes  without  saying  that  Lady  Glenorchy 
had  always  been  concerned  for  the  old  nobleman's 
soul's  welfare,  and  had  done  "  what  propriety 
allowed  "  to  be  of  service  to  him  in  this  respect 
also.  But  these  were  days  when  younger  kindred, 
however  dear,  stood  at  a  great  distance  from  their 
seniors.  In  addition  to  the  national  reserve,  men 
of  Lord  Breadalbane's  stamp,  in  his  position,  were 
not  easily  approached  on  such  delicate  subjects. 
Years  before  he  had  forbidden  the  presence  of  a 
chaplain  at  the  Castle  when  he  was  in  residence,  as 
committing  him  to  an  acknowledgment  of  his 
views.  It  was  only  from  a  trustworthy,  confi- 
dential servant  much  about  his  master's  person 
that  the  Earl's  friends  had  the  chance  of  hearing 
how  frequently  in  latter  days  he  read  his  Bible, 
and  engaged  in  prayer,  and  that  his  only  hope  for 
a  happy  eternity  was  founded  on  the  mercy  of 
God  and  the  merits  of  Christ  Jesus  his  Saviour. 

In  the  following  May  Lady  Glenorchy  and  Lady 
Henrietta  Hope  again  repaired  to  Buxton,  but 
the  much-prized  mineral  waters  to  which  their 
generation  resorted  so  frequently  were  of  little 
avail  in  the  case  of  Lady  Glenorchy,  whose  health, 

277 

19— (a3o«'i 


THE   COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

always  far  from  robust,  was  steadily  declining  so 
that  she  was  becoming  unable  for  much  intercourse 
with  her  friends.  "  I  have  not  enjoyed  a  day  free 
from  pain  for  many  months/'  she  wrote,  but  she 
would  not  complain.  The  Lord  had  wise  ends  in 
afflicting  His  people. 

She  was  only  forty-one  years  of  age,  and  a  little 
improvement  occurring  in  her  condition,  she 
cheerfully  went  to  a  Scotch  watering-place, 
Moffat,  possibly  to  adopt  what  had  been  her 
friends'  practice  for  years,  that  of  drinking  goats' 
whey.  Lady  Henrietta  Hope  and  her  sister.  Lady 
Jane  Hope  (afterwards  Lady  Melville),  were  already 
at  Moffat  when  Lady  Glenorchy  joined  them  there. 
Indefatigable  in  good  works  when  she  had  any 
approach  to  strength,  she  visited  personally  and 
sought  to  instruct  and  comfort  the  sick  poor  about 
Moffat. 

The  winter  of  1783  and  the  early  spring  of  1784 
Lady  Glenorchy  spent  between  Barnton  and 
Moffat,  where  in  June  she  left  Lady  Henrietta, 
who  was  now  the  greater  invalid  of  the  two,  and 
travelled  to  CarHsle.  She  was  gladdened  by  the 
success  of  her  chapel  there.  On  her  way  to  Buxton 
her  carriage  broke  down  on  a  Saturday  at  Matlock 
and  she  was  under  the  necessity  of  remaining  there 
over  Sunday. 

It  was  a  habit  of  hers  when  arriving  at  a  village 

278 


MATLOCK 

or  town  to  enquire  into  the  spiritual  state  of  the 
inhabitants.  The  case  of  Matlock  struck  her  as 
so  bad  that  she  almost  immediately  made  up  her 
mind  to  buy  "  a  small,  neat  house  "  built  for  the 
managing  partner  of  a  cotton  mill.  The  attraction 
was  a  chapel  attached  to  it  which  could  contain 
three  hundred  persons. 

The  provision  for  the  wants  of  spiritually 
destitute  country  people  had  become  a  passion 
with  her  as  with  her  old  friend  Lady  Huntingdon. 
Lady  Glenorchy  had  always  been  simple  in  her 
personal  habits  and  economical  in  her  private 
expenses.  She  now  began  to  push  the  economy 
much  further,  to  grudge  herself  the  Httle  she  took, 
and  to  talk  of  selhng  Barnton  in  order  that  she 
might  have  more  means  in  her  power  to  do  good. 

Surely  it  was  time  for  friends  to  interfere  again 
and  prevent  her  from  rendering  herself  destitute, 
but  the  sacrifice  was  well-nigh  complete. 

She  paid  one  more  visit  to  the  Hills  at  Hawke- 
stone.  She  arrived  in  Edinburgh  in  November  at 
Lord  Leven's  house  in  Nicholson  Square,  which 
she  had  taken  for  the  winter,  to  ensure  greater 
comfort  and  convenience  for  Lady  Henrietta  Hope. 

In  the  early  spring  of  1785  Lady  Glenorchy  was 
so  ill  that  her  life  was  despaired  of,  but  she  re- 
covered sufficiently  to  go  to  Barnton  in  the  course 
of  the  spring,  leaving  it  in  June,  never  to  return. 

279 


THE   COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

She  was  seeking  to  sell  it,  thinking  that  to  keep 
it  up  cost  too  much  money  which  could  be  spent 
to  better  purpose.  Apparently,  if  she  could  dis- 
pose of  Barnton,  her  intention  was  to  confine 
herself  for  the  summer  months  to  the  small  house 
at  Matlock. 

She  was  there  in  September,  1785,  watching 
over  the  interests  of  her  chapel.  Lady  Henrietta 
Hope  had  been  able  to  accompany  her,  and  at  the 
end  of  the  month  they  went  to  Bristol  to  try  the 
hot  springs  for  the  ailment  of  the  weaker  of  the 
two. 

Another  blow  was  in  store  for  Lady  Glenorchy. 
Her  friend's  malady,  in  place  of  decreasing,  took 
a  fatal  turn  ;  dropsy  set  in,  and  after  several 
months  of  great  suffering.  Lady  Henrietta  Hope 
died  on  New  Year's  Day,  1786. 

The  friends  had  dwelt  together  in  affectionate 
companionship  for  four  years,  but  their  sympathy 
and  regard  had  a  more  distant  date.  Lady 
Glenorchy,  writing  to  Lady  Mary  Fitzgerald  of 
what  was  her  only  consolation  in  the  near  prospect 
of  Lady  Henrietta's  death,  asserted  that  she  had 
been  to  her  for  years  "  as  her  own  soul."  The 
expression  meant  much  from  the  single-hearted, 
sincere  woman  who  made  use  of  it.  Well  for  the 
survivor  that  her  heart  was  with  her  treasure  in 
heaven  where  parted  souls  would  be  re-united, 

280 


HOPE   CHAPEL 

never  more  to  be  severed.  Well  for  her  also  that 
her  winning,  unselfish  disposition  attracted  friends 
to  her  and  retained  them  for  her,  wherever  she 
went,  whether  they  were  of  the  world  worldly,  or 
like  herself  of  a  higher  sphere. 

Lady  Henrietta  Hope  and  Lady  Glenorchy  had 
proposed  to  build  a  chapel  near  Bristol  Hot  Wells, 
sharing  the  expenses  between  them,  and  she  who 
was  called  away  before  the  project  could  be 
accomplished,  bequeathed  to  the  other  two  thou- 
sand five  hundred  pounds  to  carry  out  the  scheme. 
It  occupied  much  of  Lady  Glenorchy's  attention  in 
those  sorrowful  days.  She  decided  to  call  this 
monument  to  friendship  and  to  the  help  of  her 
fellow-creatures  "  Hope  Chapel."  She  fixed  on 
the  plan,  contracted  with  the  workmen,  and  saw 
the  work  begun.  It  was  to  be  finished  in  the 
course  of  the  year  and  opened  in  the  following 
spring,  which  she  did  not  live  to  see. 

She  went  with  another  friend.  Miss  Morgan  of 
Bristol,  into  Devonshire,  to  open  a  new  place  of 
worship  there,  to  see  the  condition  of  her  chapels 
at  Exmouth  and  Matlock,  and  to  visit  her  mother 
in  London.  On  her  journey  home  she  bestowed 
some  care  on  the  purchase  of  ground  for  a  chapel  at 
Workington,  and  to  ascertain  the  condition — 
happily  a  thriving  one — of  the  meeting-house  at 
Carlisle. 

281 


THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

Arriving  in  Edinburgh  in  June,  she  found  her 
agent  completing  the  sale  of  Barnton,  the  price 
amounting  to  twenty-seven  thousand  pounds. 

Later  Lady  Glenorchy  was  staying  in  the 
young  Countess  of  Sutherland's  house  in  George 
Square.  The  Countess  herself  was  absent,  but  an 
aunt  of  Lady  Glenorchy' s,  Miss  Hairstanes,  from 
Kirkcudbright,  was  with  her  niece. 

On  an  evening  in  July,  Mr.  Jones,  the  pastor  of 
her  church,  "  waited  upon  her,"  he  tells  us,  to  pay 
his  respects  and  take  leave  of  her  before  he  quitted 
the  town  for  some  weeks.  He  found  her  sitting 
in  her  dressing-gown,  easy  and  cheerful.  They 
talked  for  about  an  hour  when  her  conversation 
was  not  only  "  seasoned  with  grace,"  but  had  the 
vivacity  and  pleasantry  which  often  made  it  so 
fascinating. 

When  he  rose  to  go  she  said  to  him,  by  a  coin- 
cidence which  would  have  been  certain  to  strike 
herself,  "  if  you  are  to  be  away  so  long  I  shall  not 
see  you  again." 

In  order  to  turn  the  speech  from  a  more  serious 
interpretation,  he  exclaimed  :  "  What !  is  your 
ladyship  about  to  leave  us  so  soon  ?  " 

Resuming  the  gaiety  of  her  tone  she  said  :  "I 
am  thinking  of  going  south." 

"  What !  "  said  I,  "  to  the  south  of  France  ?  " 

"  Why,"  repUed  her  ladyship,  "  perhaps  I  may  ; 

282 


LADY   GLENORCHY'S   DYING   MOMENTS 

the  physicians  say  I  ought  not  to  winter  in  Britain. 
I  have  written  to  the  Holmes's  to  ask  them  if  they 
will  go  with  me,  and  if  they  consent,  it  may  be  I 
shall  be  on  my  way  there  before  your  return." 
She  gave  him  her  hand,  and  bade  him  farewell, 
the  last  words  he  heard  her  say. 

Another  gentleman,  who  for  love  of  her  and  her 
schools  and  charitable  institutions,  looked  after 
them  for  her,  called,  and  she  talked  to  him  with 
interest. 

Later,  according  to  a  common  medical  prescrip- 
tion of  the  time,  she  swallowed  an  emetic.  The 
sickness  which  was  desired  continued  longer  than 
was  necessary,  but  this  also  had  been  a  former 
experience  of  hers. 

However,  her  aunt,  Miss  Hairstanes,  took  the 
precaution  of  sending  to  tell  Lady  Glenorchy's 
doctor,  and  to  ask  him  if  she  might  give  her 
some  drops  of  laudanum  which  had  benefited 
her  on  former  occasions.  He  approved  of  the 
laudanum,  but  the  sickness  was  not  removed. 

The  doctor  saw  her  next  day  and  thought  she 
would  be  better  presently. 

As  she  lay  quiet  and  composed  her  aunt,  Hstening 
behind  the  curtain  to  see  if  she  was  asleep, 
heard  her  say  :  "  Well,  if  this  be  dying,  it  is  the 
pleasantest  thing  imaginable." 

In  her  early  youth  she  had  feared  death,  but  as 

283 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON 

she  grew  older  the  fear  passed  entirely  away  in 
the  many  times  she  was  brought  face  to  face  with 
the  last  enemy  during  her  frequent  dangerous 
illnesses.  She  fell  asleep  on  Saturday  night  and 
went  on  sleeping  softly,  but  as  she  did  not  awake 
on  Sunday  morning,  Miss  Hairstanes  called  in  fur- 
ther medical  advice.  Still  her  doctors  thought  she 
would  sleep  off  the  illness.  But  as  time  passed  and 
there  was  no  change,  a  third  doctor  was  summoned, 
but  he  would  not  pronounce  on  the  case. 

The  summer  Sunday  had  worn  on  to  evening, 
when  to  the  amazement  and  distress  of  Mr.  Jones 
he  received  a  note  from  Lady  Glenorchy's  man- 
servant to  the  effect  that  he  feared  his  lady  was 
at  the  point  of  death. 

Her  minister  and  chaplain  went  immediately 
to  her,  and  saw  her  lying  as  she  had  gone  to  sleep, 
her  breathing  almost  imperceptible.  So  she 
passed  another  night,  dying  on  Monday  forenoon, 
the  17th  of  July,  1786,  in  her  forty-fifth  year. 
Surely,  at  the  last,  death  gently  dealt  with  her 
gentle  and  generous  spirit  and  her  spent  body. 

Lady  Glenorchy  had  wished  to  be  buried  in  her 
church  in  Edinburgh.  Accordingly  a  vault  was 
prepared  with  some  difficulty,  as  the  foundation 
was  discovered  to  be  solid  rock  in  which  an 
excavation  was  hewn  enough  to  hold  her  coffin, 
the  head  lying  under  the  Communion  Table. 

284 


LADY  GLENORCHY'S  BEQUESTS 

A  sorrowful  crowd  filled  her  church  for  the 
funeral,  which  her  late  father-in-law,  the  Earl  of 
Breadalbane's  kinsman  and  successor,  travelled 
from  London  to  attend  in  order  to  show  the  dead 
woman  the  respect  of  acting  as  chief  mourner. 

On  the  following  Sunday  funeral  sermons  were 
preached  in  her  church  by  her  minister  and  by 
Dr.  Hunter,  Professor  of  Divinity,  in  Edinburgh. 

Lady  Glenorchy  had  early  made  her  will  which 
circumstances  had  forced  her  to  supplement 
several  times.  Even  then  she  had  memoranda  for 
another  will,  which  was  to  have  been  signed  on  the 
evening  of  the  day  on  which  she  died.  She  had 
already  executed  trust  deeds  in  favour  of  her 
Edinburgh  church  and  of  her  Matlock  chapel.  In 
the  last  case  she  bequeathed  the  chapel,  house 
and  furniture  to  the  Rev.  Jonathan  Scott,  the 
pastor,  and  to  his  wife  after  him,  absolutely. 

The  last  completed  will  made  at  Bristol  the  year 
before  her  death  still  named  Lady  Maxwell  her 
executrix.  What  money  remained  of  what  had 
been  Lady  Glenorchy's  possessions  was  thirty 
thousand  pounds.  This  was  divided  into  two 
halves,  one  half  was  left  in  legacies  and  annuities 
to  her  mother,  her  aunt,  and  numerous  friends  and 
dependents.  The  remaining  half  was  disposed  of 
in  religious  and  charitable  bequests,  including 
five  thousand  pounds   to  the  Scotch  Society  for 

285 


THE   COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON 

Propagating  Christian  Knowledge — preferably  (if 
supported  by  the  land-owners)  to  maintain  schools 
and  for  other  religious  purposes  on  the  estates 
of  Sutherland  and  Breadalbane,  and  five  thou- 
sand pounds  to  the  Rev.  Jonathan  Scott,  of 
Matlock,  for  the  education  of  young  men  for  the 
ministry. 

There  was  also  a  sealed  letter  to  Lady  Maxwell, 
to  be  opened  after  Lady  Glenorchy's  death,  asking 
the  friend  (who  complied  with  the  greatest  care 
and  pains  where  every  behest  was  in  question)  to 
finish  Hope  Chapel  at  Bristol  Wells,  and  to  aid 
the  chapels  at  Workington,  Carlisle,  and  elsewhere. 

Lady  Glenorchy's  many  friends  and  debtors 
would  fain  have  preserved  a  personal  remembrance 
of  her  in  the  shape  of  picture  or  engraving,  but  the 
only  known  portrait  of  her  was  that  done  in  Italy, 
in  her  youth,  representing  her  plajdng  on  a  lute, 
to  which  no  one  attached  value  neither  as  a  portrait 
or  as  a  work  of  art.  An  attempt  was  made  by  the 
directors  of  the  Society  for  Propagating  Christian 
Knowledge,  to  get  a  likeness  of  her  by  means  of 
description,  and  the  artist  Martin  was  employed 
for  the  purpose  ;  but  as  he  had  never  seen  her 
and  relied  chiefly  on  his  imagination,  the  work 
which  hung  in  the  Hall  of  the  Society  was  far 
from  satisfactory. 

So  ends  the  record  of  one  of  the  saintliest  Hves 

286 


CONCLUSION 

ever  lived,  whether  in  the  world  or  within  convent 
walls. 

Lady  Glenorchy  outlived  her  friend  Lady  Hen- 
rietta Hope  by  only  six  months.  Miss  Hill  soon 
followed  the  two.  Lady  Glenorchy' s  revered  ally, 
Lady  Huntington,  who  was  on  the  verge  of  four- 
score when  Lady  Glenorchy  died,  had  yet  five 
or  six  years  of  Hfe,  while  Lady  Alva  and  Miss 
Hairstanes  survived  their  daughter  and  niece  for 
many  years. 

Since  making  the  study  of  Lady  Glenorchy  the 
writer  has  seen  an  engraving  of  her  which  may 
have  been  taken  from  some  forgotten  sketch.  It 
is  certainly  neither  from  the  Italian  portrait,  nor 
from  Martin's  picture.  It  represents  a  sweet, 
winning  personality,  a  shght  figure,  the  plain  dark 
dress  open  on  a  white  neckerchief  reaching  from 
the  throat  to  the  waist,  a  "  pear-shaped  face," 
broad  forehead,  dehcately-arched  eyebrows,  and 
straight  nose.  The  wavy  hair  is  rolled  back,  the 
dehcate. contour  just  shaded  by  a  soft  white  cap,  to 
which  a  bow  of  ribbon  fastens  a  black  veil  that 
hangs  down  on  the  shoulders — probably  as  a  mark 
of  widowhood. 

THE   END 


287 


Index 


Addison,  Joseph,   19 

Akenside,  Mark,  34 

Alva,  Charles,   Lord,    142 

Alva,  Lady.  141,  142,  143.  144.  176. 

177.  287 
Ancaster.   Duchess  of.    12.    50.  80, 

120 
Auchalladair,  Mr..  178 

Baillie,  Lady  Ross,   183 

Balfour,  Rev.  Robert,  221.  222.  224, 
230,   232,   236 

Balgonie,  Lord,  248 

Baltimore,  Lord,   12 

Banff,  Lady,  183 

Bennett,  Mr.,  97,   104,   105,   106 

— ,  Mrs.     {See  Murray,  Grace.) 

Benson,  Martin.  Bishop  of  Glouces- 
ter, 22  et  seq. 

Berridge,  John,  109-113,  128.  133, 
155 ;  Letter  to  Lady  Hunting- 
don, 111 

Bertie,  Lady  Ellinor,  50 

Blair,  Robert.  183 

Bolingbroke,  Lord,  8,  37,  39,  48, 
121     132 

Bread'albane,  Earl  of,  144,  146,  147, 
148,  151,  180,  192,  205,  206,  275. 
276,  277 

Brisbane  of  Brisbane,  257 

Buckingham,  Duchess  of,  46 ; 
Letter  to  Lady  Huntingdon,  47 

Campbell,  Lady  Jemima,  147 
Carlyle  of  Inveresk,  223 
Carmichael  of  Carmunnok,  233,  236 
Charlotte,  Queen,  121,  122,  123,  126 
Cheshunt    College.    (See    Trevecca 

College.) 
Chesterfield,  Earl  of,  8.  9.  39.  40, 

48,  83,  84,  85,  121 
— ,  Lady,  83,  84,  85 
Chudleigh,  Miss,  160 
"  Clapham  Sect,  The,"  29 
Clayden,  Mr.,  234 
Cobham,  Lady,  80 
Cornwallis,   Lord,   74,    117 


Cornwallis,  Frederick,  Archbishop  of 

Canterbury,    117-119,    124,   125 
Coventry,  Lady,  72 
Cowper,  William,  203 

Dartmouth,  Earl  of,    120 

De  Courcy.  Mr.,  193,  194,  195,  202. 

203,  235 
De  Gray,  Marchioness,   182,  214 
Delany.     {See  Pendarvis,  Mary.) 
Derry,   Bishop  of,   160 
Devonshire,  Duke  of,   115 
Dick,  Mr.,  221 
Dickie,  Mr.,   234 
Dickson,  Deacon.  210 
Doddridge.  Philip,  30.  50 

Easterbrook,  Mr.,  60 
Elgin,  Charles,   Earl  of,   206 
England  in  the  Eighteenth  Century, 

1.  2 
Erskine,  Lady  Anne,   134,  248 
— ,  Charles.     {See  Alva,  Lord.) 
— ,  Ebenezer,  88 
— ,  Dr.   John,  213,  221,  224 

Ferrers,  Lawrence  Shirley,  Earl. 
Dissolute  life,  66 ;  separated 
from  wife,  67  ;  kills  his  land- 
steward,  Johnson,  69  ;  arrested, 
70  ;  imprisoned  in  the  Tower. 
70  ;  visited  by  Lady  Hunting- 
don, 70,  71  ;  arraigned  in  West- 
minster Hall,  72  ;  pleads  in- 
sanity, 72  ;  condemned  to  death. 
73  ;    hanged  at  Tyburn,  75-77 

Fitzgerald,  George  Robert,  160,  161 

— ,  Lady  Mary,   159,  280 

Fletcher  of  Madeley,  58,  59,  60,  90, 
240 

— ,  Mrs.  90 

Foote,  Samuel,  114,  116 

Frankland,  Frederick,  21 

Gardiner,  Colonel,  25 
Garrick,  David,    114,   115,   116 
George  II,  73,   124 


289 


INDEX 


George  III,  84,  121,  122,  124.  126; 
Letter  to  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,   125 

Germayne,   Lady  Betty,  49 

Gibson,  Mr.,  202 

Gillespie.  Thomas,  196-198  ;  Letter 
to  Lady  Glenorchy,    197 

Glazebrook,  Mr.,  60,  61,  62,  110 

Glenorchy,  John  Viscount,  144,  147, 
148.  156,  192,  200-205  ;  his  will, 
205 

— ,  Willielma,  Lady,  birth  and 
descent,  140,  141  ;  marries  Vis- 
count Glenorchy,  144  ;  travels 
abroad  with  him,  148 ;  friend- 
ship with  Miss  Hill,  152,  156; 
her  pleasing  character,  153  ; 
gradual  conversion  to  Methodism, 
156  ;  friendship  with  Lady  Hunt- 
ingdon, 161  ;  at  Taymouth,  163- 
173  ;  arrives  at  definite  belief, 
167  ;  death  of  her  sister  and 
brother-in-law,  176 ;  begins  her 
diary,  177  ;  at  Holyrood,  180  ; 
her  aloofness  from  the  world, 
181  ;  her  intimates  in  Edin- 
burgh, 183  ;  hires  Niddry  Wind 
Chapel.  186  ;  but  obstacles  arise, 
187  ;  introduced  to  John  Wesley, 
188 ;  separates  chapel  from 
Wesleyan  preachers,  189,  and 
loses  Lady  Maxwell's  good 
opinion  thereby.  190 ;  donation 
to  Trevecca  College,  61  ;  at 
Barnton,  191  ;  institutes  chapel 
there,  192 ;  rebuked  for  her 
reticence,  196,  198  ;  death  of  her 
husband,  203 ;  left  his  sole 
legatee,  205  ;  her  austerity 
remonstrated  with  by  Walker, 
211  ;  her  project  to  build  a 
church,  209  ;  foundation  stone 
laid,  210 ;  the  opening,  213  ; 
visits  England,  214  ;  her  liking  for 
English  Presbyterianism,  216 ; 
her  minister  discountenanced  by 
the  Presbytery,  217 ;  her  ap- 
pointment of  Balfour  disputed. 
222 ;  trouble  with  the  Synod, 
224,  226  ;  in  England  again,  225 
et  seq.  ;  founds  chapel  at  Ex- 
mouth,  228 ;  compromise  with 
the  Assembly,    229  ;     returns   to 


Glenorchy.  Willielma,  Lady 

Edinburgh,  230  ;  appoints  Sheriff 
minister  of  her  church,  231  ;  on 
his  death,  appoints  Jones,  234  ; 
some  of  her  friends,  etc..  Chap. 
XVIL  pp.  237-272  ;  reconcilia- 
tion with  the  Presbytery,  273  ; 
introduces  more  frequent  ad- 
ministration of  the  Sacrament, 
273 ;  in  London,  274  ;  alarm- 
ingly ill,  274  ;  joined  by  Lady 
Henrietta  Hope,  275  ;  restores 
chapel  at  Carlisle,  275.  281  ; 
arranges  for  chapel  at  Matlock, 
279,  280  ;  death  of  Lady  Hope, 
280  ;  back  again,  after  various 
excursions,  in  Edinburgh,  282 ; 
peaceful  death.  284,  133  ;  burial, 
284,  285  ;  her  will,  285-6  ;  por- 
traits of,  286.  287 
— ,  Letter  to  Lady  Huntingdon,  161 
Granville,  Ann.   11  [235 

Grove.  Mr..  216,  217,  218.  219,  220, 
Gudway,  Mrs..  226 

Haddington.  Mary  Countess  of,  209 
Hairstanes.    Miss,    282,    283,    284, 

287 
Hastings,  Lady  Betty,  16 
— ,  Lady  Catherine,    16.  22 
— ,    Lady   Elizabeth.     {See   Moira. 

Countess.) 
— ,  Col.  George,  129 
— ,   Hon.   Henry.  34,   127 
— .  Lady  Margaret,   16,   18,   19,  22 
— ,  Lady  Mary.  6 
— ,  Lady  Selina,  86,  95,   128,   129, 

130 
— ,  Rev.  Theophilus,   129 
Heber,   Bishop,   238 
Hervey,   Lord,    15 
— ,  James,  9 

Hill,  General  Lord,  256,  257 
— .  Jane.   152,   154,   155,   157,   166, 

169.  182,  190,  196,  225,  226,  228, 

237,  238,  239,  240.  241,  242,  244, 
245,  247,  248,  251   ,254,  256.  287 

~,  Sir  John,  256 

— ,  Sir  Richard,  238,  240,  244,  255. 

256 
— ,  Robert,  238 
— .  Sir  Rowland,  85,  152,  154.  237. 

238,  243,  244,  249,  255 


290 


INDEX 


Hill,  Lady,  255 

—  Rev.  Rowland,  85,  154,  156. 
238  239,  240,  243,  244,  246,  247, 
248!  249,  250,  251,  254,  255,  256. 
257* 

—  Mrs.  Rowland,  249,  251 
Holmes,  Mr.,  226,  227,  228,  283 
Hope    Lady   Henrietta,    182,    209, 

219,  231,  265,  271,  274,  275,  277, 
278,  279,  280.  281,  287 

—  Lady  Sophia,  209 
Hotham,  Sir  Charles,  85-87,  128 
— ,  Lady  Gertrude,  85,  87 
Hume,   David.    142 

Hunter,    Dr..   285 
Huntingdon.   Theophilus,  9th  Earl 
of,  7.  21.  37 

—  Francis.    10th  Earl  of,  34,  39, 
41,  42,  61,  72,  85,  86.  129,  131,  132 

— ,  Selina   Countess  of,   birth   and 
parentage,     3 ;      early    religious 
impressions,  4  ;   personal  appear- 
ance, 4,  5  ;   innate  seriousness  of 
character,  6  ;   marries  ninth  Earl 
of  Huntingdon,   7  ;    eccentricity 
in  matter  of  dress,   10,    11,    12; 
interest  in  contemporary  politics, 
12  ;  at  Donnington  Park,  16,  17  ; 
in  doubt  of  the  Methodists.  18  ; 
stricken  with  illness,  and  religious 
convictions  deepened,  20  ;    prac- 
tically throws  in  her  lot  with  the 
Methodists,  21  ;    consults  Bishop 
Benson,    22    et    seq.  ;     appoints 
Whitefield     her     chaplain,     28 ; 
attached  to  Church  of  England, 
29,     254  ;      but     realises     that 
adherence     is     impossible.     30  ; 
work  among  the  poor,  31  ;   influ- 
ence on  her  own  class,  31  ;   death 
of  her  two  sons,  35  ;    and  of  her 
husband,  37  ;   goes  on  a  mission- 
ary tour  in  Wales,  38  ;    vacates 
Donnington  Park,   39 ;    receives 
many  rebuffs  from   her  friends, 
46  ;    Sunday  evening  assemblies 
at    her    house,    47  ;     withstands 
controversies  in  Methodist  ranks, 
50 ;     beginning    of    the    "  Con- 
nexion,"   52    et    seq.  ;     sacrifices 
her  jewels,  52  ;  informal  meetings 
in  her  own  household,  56  ;    con- 
sults  Fletcher   of   Madeley,    58 ; 


Huntingdon,  SeUna  Countess  of 
opens  Trevecca  College,  59  ;  her 
many  schemes  of  activity,  63  ; 
her  friends,  chap.  VI  (p.  79-113)  ; 
interview  with  David  Garrick, 
115,  116;  interview  with  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  118, 
119;  interview  with  the  King, 
120.  122,  124  ;  death  of  her 
favourite  daughter,  129,  130  ; 
her  own  death,  135 

Ingham,  Mr.,  22,  51 
— .  Lady  Margaret,  88 

Johnson,  Dr.,  164 

— ,  Mr.     (See  Ferrers,  Earl.) 

Johnston.  Mr.  224 

Jones,  Thomas  Snell,  145,  153,  167, 

215,  227,  228.  234.  235,  273,  282, 

284 

Kendal,  Duchess  of,  42,  84 
Kenmure,  Lord.  141 
Kingswood  Orphanage.  52 

Lee.  Lady  Elizabeth,  82 
Leven,  David,  Earl  of,  206,  279 
— ,  Lady,  183 
Lothian,  Marchioness  of,  258 

Marlborough,  Sarah.  Duchess  of. 

79  ;    letters  from,  80.  81 
Maxwell.    Mary.     {See   Sutherland. 

Duchess  of.) 
— ,  Sir  Walter.  258.  259 
—    Lady,   182,  183.  184,  185,  186, 
189,  195,  218,  256,  257,  272,  276. 
285 
— ,  William,  141 
— ,   Willielma.     {See  Glenorchy, 

Lady.) 
"Merchants'  Lectures,"  214 
Meredith,  Sir  William,  66,  73 
Methodism,  the  civil  disadvantages 
of  28  ;   ultimate  triumph  of,  133 
Middleton.  Mr.,  192,  193,  235 
"  Minor,  The  "  (lampoon  on  White- 
field),  114  et  seq. 
Moira,  Lady,  34,  38,  42  et  seq..  62, 

112,   128,  131 
Moncrieff,  Scott,  210  [13,  120 

Montagu,  Lady  Mary  Wortley,  12, 


291 


INDEX 


Moravians,  the,  51 

More,  Hannah,  29 

Morgan,  Miss,  281 

Murray,  Grace,  early  years  and 
marriage  to  Mr.  Murray,  98,  99  ; 
first  hears  Whitefield,  100  ;  death 
of  her  husband,  103  ;  joins  the 
Methodists,  103  ;  mutual  feelings 
between  her  and  John  Wesley, 
104  ;  marries  Mr.  Bennett,  104  ; 
on  circuit  with  him,  106 ; 
widowed  a  second  time,  107  ; 
retirement,  107  ;  last  meeting 
with  John  Wesley,  108  ;  death, 
109 

Nightingale,  Lady  Elizabeth,  6 
— ,  Miss.  57 
Nithsdale,  Lord,  141 
North  Esk,  Lady,  183 
Nottingham,  Earl  of,  73 

Oxford  Movement,  the,  2,   18 

Pendarvis.  Mrs.,  Mary,  11,  12,  13 
Pentycross,  Mrs.,  89 
Plenderleith,  Mr.,  202 
Pope,  Alexander,  9 

QuEENSBERRY,  Duchess  of,  12,  14 

Ramsay,  Alan,  142,  143 
Robertson,  Principal  William,  213 
Rockingham,  Lady,  49 
Romaine,  Rev.  W.,  28,  31 

Sanderson,  Sir  William,   13,   14 

Saunderson,  Lady  Frances,  81 

Scarborough,   Earl  of,   21 

Scott,  Rev.  Jonathan,  285,  286 

Selwyn,  George,  27 

Sevign6,  Mme.  de,   13 

Sheridan,  R.  B.,  250 

Sheriff,  Mr.  Travers,  230,  231,  232, 
233    235    236 

Shirley,  Lady  Fanny,  9.  43.  78,  81, 
82 

Shirley,  Lady  Selina.  (See  Hunt- 
ingdon, Selina,  Countess  of.) 

— ,  Mr.,  60,  253 

Simeon,   Charles,  267 

Stewart,  Rev.  James,  192 

Suffolk,  Lady,  49 


Sutherland.  Earl  of.  144.  174,  175, 

176 
— ,  Mary,  Countess  of,  141,  144,  174, 

176 
— ,  Duchess-Countess  of.  177.  181, 

282 

Temple,  Mrs..  82 

Thornton,  Mr.,  61 

Toplady,  Rev.  A.  M.,  252 

Townshend,  George  Marquis,   117 

— ,  Lady,    10,  80 

Trevecca  College,  52,  59,  90,  251- 

254  ;      merges     into     Cheshunt 

College,  62 

Venn,  31 
— ,  Mrs..  90 

Walker,  Mrs.  Bailie,   183,  210 
— ,  Rev.  Robert,  183,  187,  198,  199, 

200,  202,  208,  211,  214,  218,  221. 

224,     263 ;      letters     to     Lady 

Glenorchy,   198,  211 
Walpole.  Horace.  9.  39,  43,  44,  71, 

72,  77 
Washington,  George,  64 
Watts,  Isaac,  30 
Webster,   Dr..    188,  221.   224,   229, 

262 
Wells,  The  Bishop  of,  246 
Wellwood,  Sir  H.  Moncrieff   (letter 

to  Lady  Glenorchy).  217 
Wesley,  Charles,  20,  31,  51,  72,  93. 

94,  95,  96,   105,   113,   132,  155 
— ,  Mrs.  Charles,  92,  94 
— ,    John,    11,   20,   28.   31,   51,   54, 

94,  103,  104,  105,  108,  113,   133, 

155,  169,  184.  188,  195,  262 
— ,  Mrs.   John,  91,   155 
Wheeler,  Mr.,  22 
— ,  Lady  Catherine,  88 
— ,  Miss  Selina  Margaretta,  57 
Whitefield,  George,  23,  24,  26,  27, 

31.  49,  51.  53,  63,  71,  72,  78.  80, 

84,  85,  86,  87,  91,  95,  96,    100, 

102,    113,   114,   132,    155,  216 
— ,  Mrs.,  91,  92 

Young.  Edward.  82,  83 
Zinzkndorf,  Count,  51 


292 


J^i 


